


A Second for the Flame

by LazyWriterGirl



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: All Relationships Will Be Slowburns, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon? I'll Do What I Want, Crimson Flower Route, Crossover, F/F, Female My Unit | Reflet | Robin, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Spoilers, Forgot to Tag Relationships I'm Sorry, Found Family, Multi, My Unit | Byleth Wants to Learn to Show Emotions, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pairings Based off Playthrough, Post-Awakening, Rating May Change, Slight Canon Divergence, Some Will Just Be Slower Than Others, Sothis is There Pre-White Clouds, Warnings May Change, longfic, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2020-10-18 16:30:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20642213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyWriterGirl/pseuds/LazyWriterGirl
Summary: In Imperial Year 1175, Jeralt Eisner and his daughter Byleth find a woman lying in a field, unconscious and badly injured, a sword on each hip and a strange cloak on her back. When she awakens, she tells them only her name, Robin, and that she cannot remember anything else. Impressed by her skills, Jeralt offers her a place in their mercenary band, eager to have a strong new ally and, more importantly, a friend for Byleth.There's something about Robin that feels familiar to the stoic young mercenary, and, strangely, the girl living in her head. As they travel together the bond between the three of them grows, but fate looms over their newfound family; the gods themselves make their presence known.It would seem that they all have a role to play in Fódlan's grand destiny.





	1. Prologue, Clear Skies, Guardian Moon: The Stranger with the Crested Cloak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silenciadelumbrae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silenciadelumbrae/gifts), [WindStainedDreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindStainedDreams/gifts).

**Imperial Year 1175, First of the Guardian Moon**

Even when she closed her eyes, Byleth could see it.

Hair as pale as snow. Tawny skin. Fine silver armour glimmering over a dark cloak. A pair of blades, both special somehow despite their differences, unparalleled in workmanship. 

An unconscious stranger they'd found and saved.

She opened her eyes. The stranger was still there. It wasn't just an imagining; not that she'd ever been particularly imaginative. A giggle rippled through her mind; so, the strange little girl was awake, then?

_ “You really should stop referring to me as a strange little girl, you know.” _

Byleth ignored the voice; she had other things to worry about at the moment.

"Who are you?" she asked the darkness, hoping it wouldn't actually wake the stranger. She'd been injured, and badly. While the healer had confirmed that the injuries were already in the process of healing, more rest certainly couldn't hurt. It wouldn't do for Byleth to wake her and slow her recovery. 

The stranger murmured something, then stirred, rolling slightly on the straw mat beneath her. For a moment Byleth thought her question had been enough to rouse the woman. She tensed, unsure of what she might say. Thankfully, the stranger didn't wake. Byleth sat back, studying her with a careful eye. They'd found her lying in a field just off the edge of a forest in the middle of nowhere, caught between the Empire and Alliance territory. A strange place to be found lying down, armed, yet unconscious.

Byleth had asked her father where the woman might have come from. He couldn't say for certain, but if he had to guess, he would say it certainly wasn't anywhere near Fódlan. Perhaps one of the southeastern continents? Or the lands to the west? She didn't quite look like what Byleth imagined those in the far west looked like, but having never met anyone from outside Fódlan, she couldn't be sure. One or two of her father's mercenaries were from some place called Duscur, up north, but the memory of their faces didn't align with the sleeping woman's features.

The woman was certainly pretty, wherever she hailed from. Delicate in a way; sort of refined, if Byleth had to think up a more specific word for it. Seemed strong too though. And Byleth's father said she was only a little older than Byleth herself, four or five years at most…not that she knew just how old that was, or how old that would make the stranger. She doubted he knew, either, just like how he didn't seem to know—or perhaps didn't seem to care—about his own age.

It had never bothered her, really; it wasn't much more than a number, after all.

"Hey kid, you should get some rest." Her father's familiar, booming voice seemed oddly muted; even he could respect a wounded stranger's need for silence. "You don't need to worry, the healer said she'll be just fine, right?"

"Yes, I know, but where did she even come across such injuries? Who is she? Where did she come from? What about those swords she carries?"

Jeralt laughed. "I don't think I've ever seen you so curious before, kid. You don't have a crush, do you?" He paused, scratching his beard in that way he had whenever he meant to tease her. "Granted, I know you do prefer women, and she does seem to be very pretty, but she's also unconscious, yunno? Control those teenage hormones, yeah?"

Byleth shook her head. "You're always joking, Dad. That's not it at all. But there's something about this woman...something  _ familiar _ , almost. Like she and I are…similar, in a way." 

Something flashed through her father's eyes. The sort of look he'd always tried to hide from her, even when she was smaller. Byleth had long since given up trying to figure out that look of his. It hardly stirred the vague stirrings of what passed for curiosity for her anymore, these days. "Perhaps when she wakes up, you two can talk. Maybe you'll find out why you feel that way."

"I suppose you're right. Maybe."

"Course I'm right, maybe. Get some sleep though, and soon, okay, kid?" He walked over to her, offering a bedroll and a squeeze of her shoulder, before leaving the hut. She debated on whether it would be inappropriate to lay down her roll at the stranger's side; oftentimes she'd done that with other mercenaries, when space was tight. Granted, this woman could have been anything. A soldier, perhaps, though the quality of her armour, dinged and scratched as it was, suggested something grander, perhaps. More important.

In the end she chose to lay down parallel to the stranger, though a respectable distance away, her back pressed against the wall of the hut. 

Byleth didn't sleep much that night. The strange girl in her head whispered to her, coaxing, soothing, urging her to sleep even just a little. It helped, though only a little. Nothing out of the ordinary, at least, not for her. Once or twice, she thought saw a flash of something over the stranger's head. Purple, flashing, a powerful glow.

The girl in her head stirred again.  _ "My, I wonder…" _ Byleth prodded at her with her mind, but received no response.

What was that all about?

* * *

  
  


The stranger woke a day later, just in time for their departure. Wisdom lived in the grey-brown of her eyes, her gaze deep, unwavering. Byleth wondered how deeply those eyes could see—they peered through her, not simply at her. Then, the stranger spoke, voice lower than she’d expected, and accented unlike anything she'd ever heard. "Young lady, you haven't a heartbeat."

Most people didn't notice. 

"No." 

How had this woman noticed? Byleth didn't think she'd ever been close enough for the woman to notice something like that; she did still have a pulse, after all. Just not a heartbeat. 

"To be fair, I didn't used to, either," said the woman, sitting up with relative ease. "Thank you for saving me."

"How do you know that's what's happening here?" she asked, a faint prickling sensation running up and down her arms.

The woman smiled, nodding down to the bandages that lined her stomach and arms. "I can't imagine those with ill intent would bother to take such good care of me. Am I wrong in thinking you my saviour?"

"I suppose not."

"Then I thank you, again."

"You're welcome. My name is Byleth. Byleth Eisner. My father actually found you first."

_ "Talkative aren't you? I don't think I've ever seen you act this way around anyone,"  _ murmured the girl in Byleth's head. She shook it off; the strange girl had started speaking to her much more than normal, recently, with far more regularity than the sparse, monthly comments she'd made in the past. 

"I shall have to thank your father as well, then..." The woman trailed off. A furrow creased the smooth, warm brown skin of her brow. "Ah, my apologies, Byleth. My name is Robin. Robin…that's…that's all."

It should have seemed stranger to her that Robin couldn't declare her last name with confidence, but Byleth was no judge; whether something had happened that had made the woman unsure, or whether she was hiding her identity, that didn't matter. Not for now, anyway. "Are you okay to ride, Robin? My father and I are leaving today. We have to make a start toward Remire Village."

"Remire? I've never heard of such a place." Robin shrugged, her brow still furrowed. "I should be fine to ride, though."

Byleth nodded and helped the woman stand, rolling up the straw mat and tucking it under her own arm. They'd borrowed it from one of the others. It wouldn't do not to return it before they parted ways. "What were you doing, lying there like that? What attacked you? The healer found a fair few wounds on you, but she couldn't say what had caused them."

"Are you always this curious?" Robin asked, a faint smile stretching across her tawny face. She really was lovely—something that Byleth noted with a bit of confusion. She could recognize beauty, yes, but it never did leave that much of an impression on her. Some of the women in her father's band had said it was strange, while others simply told her father he should have been grateful. That her gaze wouldn't wander to some beautiful stranger and take her from him, whatever they meant by that.

"No, usually my child here is much the opposite," her father answered for her. "Glad to see you're well again, stranger. My name is Jeralt." Byleth watched them shake hands. "Robin, was it? Nice to meet you." Beside his large frame the stranger seemed even smaller than Byleth had thought her to be, though she was still taller than Byleth by about half a head, if not more.

"You're mercenaries, right?" Robin said, the tone of her voice more stating a fact than asking a question. "And you're the leader of this band, sir?"

"Yes. Perceptive, aren't you?"

"I apologize for any trouble I've caused you, but I seem to have difficulty…remembering things." Robin grumbled something to herself in a language which Byleth knew for certain she'd never heard before. "I…have a feeling this has happened to me before, but—ah, no matter. Thank you again, for finding me. Please, let me know how I might repay your kindness."

"Slow down, Robin. It's fine, you don't need to repay us for anything," said Byleth, not sure why she would say something like that when the healer had cost them a good bit more than they'd been planning to spend. To her surprise, however, her father nodded.

"My daughter is right," he said, casting Byleth a glance out of the corner of his eye. "Now, I hope you don't mind my asking, but if you don't have anywhere else to go, would you want to come with us? At least until we find out where you're supposed to be?"

Robin watched them both, thinly veiled suspicion flashing in her eyes for only a moment. "I couldn't impose…"

"Actually, I guess if you did come, it would be almost like repaying us. None of our fellows will be coming along to Remire. One's family lives in the next town over, so he'll be staying there, and the others..." He shrugged. It was the nature of the job, and though they were known as an effective mercenary unit, everyone did tend to take their own missions in slower times.

"Ah, well…when you put it that way, I guess it would be rather rude of me to refuse." Robin nodded. "Yes, I shall accompany you to this…Remire Village." She looked around the hut in which they'd stayed for the last few nights. "My things?"

Byleth gestured to the pack she'd prepared. "I folded your cloak, and your armour is tucked away in the pack, if you wanted to wear it. And here are your blades," she said, unclasping one from where she'd kept it at her hip, just under her own blade. She pulled the other its place slung across her back. "I've never seen anything like them."

"Balmung and Mystletainn," Robin said nonchalantly, "thank you for taking care of them for me." She bowed her head, the movement quick and self-assured. For a moment it seemed as if she'd forgotten them, her focus solely on making sure that her blades were attached securely to the belt Byleth had found for her. When her eyes met Byleth's, she smiled. "Truly, I was beyond lucky that such kind people found me."

Byleth dipped her head, noting how her father's amused grin seemed to grow only that much larger. They stood awkwardly, hovering around each other for a moment, before he finally started to move, taking the bedroll from Byleth. "Do you know how to ride, Robin?"

"Horses, pegasi, and wyverns, I believe. How will we be getting to Remire?"

"Are you jo—horses," said Byleth's father, shaking his head slightly, something like a smile on his lips. "Your injuries shouldn't affect your riding at this point, but if you ever feel uncomfortable just let Byleth know."

Robin nodded. "Yes, of course. Thank you, sir."

"Please, it's just Jeralt."

Robin nodded again, slipping the pack onto her shoulders without so much as a grimace despite its obvious heft. Whatever she was, Byleth's assessment of her physical strength seemed accurate; her father certainly noticed as well. His eyes bore the same kind of look they usually did when he appraised a new mercenary. Perhaps, if Robin proved herself as skilled as they were already assuming, her father would offer her a place. Why the thought brought a strange tingle of something to Byleth's chest, she couldn't understand.

_ "I believe it's called excitement, little mortal." _

She shushed the girl, glad that at the very least it seemed that Robin, like all the others, couldn't hear her. "You should be able to distribute some of the weight between your saddlebags, later," Byleth said, not sure why she should be so concerned for the stranger's comfort. She wasn't usually like this. In fact, though she'd need to ask her father to verify, she didn't think she'd ever been like this.

"I think I'll be alright, but thank you," Robin said. She smiled again as Byleth's father guided them towards their mounts and introduced her to the others.

In truth, Byleth looked forward to the long road to Remire. Much as she loved her father, the idea of it being just the two of them for nearly two months, if not a little more, did seem a bit…dull. Or perhaps dull wasn't the right word. She wouldn't have minded travelling alone, just herself and her father. Robin would make a welcome addition to their party regardless, even if only for a little while.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**Fifteenth of the Guardian Moon**

Robin proved herself to be more than adept with a sword, she and Balmung coming in handy against bandits they encountered on the road into town. She moved unlike anything Byleth had ever seen, one with her blade as she danced from one bandit to the next. The speed at which she blocked and parried, the precision with which she struck…Byleth would have been more embarrassed with her own comparatively poor showing had she not been so fascinated.

Then, the next night, she drew Mystletainn instead, her strikes strong and sure. Rarely did an enemy last a single blow against her. Byleth had to remind herself that distraction killed just as easily as a blade as she watched the other woman slice through bandits with ease.

For once, her father seemed speechless.

As they sat around the campfire afterwards, a few hours out of town and headed toward their next stop on their way to Remire, Jeralt fixed their new addition with a curious look. "You really don't remember anything, Robin?"

"Nothing important, aside from my name," said the woman, pulling her white hair into a high tail to keep it out of her eyes. Long tendrils of hair slipped free of her hands, framing her face, though she didn't seem to mind. "I mean, clearly some part of me remembers how to wield a sword, and I guess battlefield tactics make sense to me. Basic things about interacting with people, living in a busy environment…that sort of thing comes to mind as I need it, and I can read, write, and speak without difficulty. But I don't remember people from my old life. Do I have a family? Friends? I feel like I should know, like I'm forgetting the most important things about me." She frowned into the fire, the expression out of place on her face. "I can't be sure, of course."

"I understand," said Jeralt after a moment. "Well, after what we've seen, I hope you won't think me too forward if I ask if you'd consider joining us, even after Remire. You're very skilled. We could use a hand." He looked over to Byleth, seated on a third log by the fire. "What do you think, kid?"

"I think it would be a good idea, if you were up for it," Byleth said, looking at the older woman. "And the journey will take us almost two months, if not a bit longer, so there's really no rush to decide."

Robin smiled, ducking her head in what Byleth took for a gesture of thanks. "Should my... _ situation _ remain the same, I don't see the harm in joining you after whatever it is we have to do in Remire Village. My thanks Byleth, Jeralt."

"You'd be doing us a favour, Miss Robin," replied Byleth's father. She couldn't help giving him a look; where exactly had he pulled such pretty manners from? To his credit, her father looked away when he noticed her quizzical look, a faint bit of colour on his cheeks. Something to bother him about later, on the long road toward Remire.

Robin smiled again, gentler this time. "Please, Jeralt, just Robin is fine." Byleth watched the other woman's delicate movements; wherever she'd come from, her manners were the type Byleth had only ever seen in passing; fine ladies, important ladies; the sort of women who held power different from the strength of Byleth's sword. Refined, as she'd thought to herself before Robin woke up.

Drawing herself out of her thoughts, she chuckled at the curt, embarrassed nod of her father's head. He excused himself and rose, muttering something about checking on the horses, or tallying up their supplies. Robin waited for his bulky frame to move away from the fire before she turned to Byleth with a smile. Her feet inched absently toward the flame, not too close, but close enough that Byleth could pick out the faint scent of the woman's boots drying. "I truly am grateful, you know. Not very many people would be so kind. " There was a look in her eyes as she said it, one that told Byleth that Robin knew the truth of her statement through experience. "I hope my joining you won't become burdensome."

"I doubt it. Besides, you heard my dad," said Byleth, aiming for levity in her tone though she knew it most likely sounded just as flat as everything else. "You'd honestly be doing us a favour. And personally, I think it would be nice to have someone around my age along, for once." She paused. "How old are you anyway, Robin?"

"I'm…not sure. I mean, somewhere in my… I'd guess my early twenties? That feels right. You?"

Byleth sat back as far as she trusted her body to go without sending her pitching over the other end of the log. Her eyes closed against the comforting heat radiating from the blaze. "Come to think of it, I'm none too sure myself, but Dad said something about me being a teenager so I'd guess mid to late teens?"

She'd guess. Why would she say it that way? Saying it that way only ever lead to incredulity or doubt.

Robin, however, didn't react the way most people would, the way most people had. She didn't joke, or pry, or prod. She simply laughed, the sound companionate instead of jeering. Byleth liked her immensely for it. She also liked the way the corners of Robin's eyes crinkled up a little when she laughed. Where that thought came from, though, she couldn't be sure.

"Would you look at us? What a pair we make!"

A small chuckle rippled from Byleth's own mouth, surprising her. It'd been a long time since she laughed, even just a little, if ever there had been such a time. "We're a strange pair indeed."

"Yes, though I must admit, I do have a good feeling about this friendship," said the other woman. Robin stretched her arms upward, yawning behind a tired smile just as Jeralt came back from tending to their mounts, bedrolls tucked under his arms.

"Hope you're okay with roughing it," he said as he handed a bedroll to Robin, then another to Byleth. "With the way the roads have been lately, it's likely going to be more than two months toward Remire village, so we'll try to stop at a few inns along the way." He shrugged. "The job said to come as soon as we can, but I don't think we should push too hard. You do still need time to recover fully."

"Oh no, you needn't change your schedule on my account. I…this feels familiar to me. I think I've spent a good few nights out in the open." Robin yawned again. "Thank you for the bedroll, Jeralt. I think I'll tuck in now."

"Sleep well," he said, waiting for the other woman to pick a spot a safe distance away from the fire before turning to Byleth. "You too, kiddo. We'll start as soon as you and the newbie wake up."

"Sure, Dad. Sleep well," she replied, unrolling her bedroll a respectable distance away from Robin. The last thing she saw before closing her eyes for the night was the strange symbol adorning the other woman's cloak. It seemed familiar, somehow. As if she'd seen it before. 

The girl in her head yawned, her voice carrying only half of its usual drawling sharpness.  _ "Perhaps you haven't, though I feel like I…might have. You should sleep, for now. Don't keep yourself up thinking about it." _

She listened, unsure why, and found it easier to sleep than it had been for quite some time.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The next morning, Robin herself brought up the symbol, holding her cloak spread out in front of her. Bereft of the cloak, her lean arms betrayed her strength.

"Wonder what this symbol is," she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. A moment passed, and it seemed as if she were thinking of something far removed from their current situation, though Byleth couldn't be sure. She'd never met anyone whose face carried such nuanced expressions.

Jeralt started to say something, but stopped himself. Instead of whatever he'd been about to say, he offered a shrug and an almost terse "Ready to go?"

"Yes, of course," said Robin. She slid the cloak over her shoulders, then seemed to think differently of it and guided her arms into the sleeves properly. Upon noticing Byleth's gaze, she smiled slightly and shook her head. "I must be from somewhere warm."

Almyra perhaps, or Brigid? Except that even with her tawny skin Byleth didn't quite look the way her father described Almyrans. She looked even less like his descriptions of the people of Brigid. Byleth cleared the thought from her head; it didn't really matter where Robin came from, after all.

She offered to bring up the rear of their little convoy, a plan to which both her father and Robin readily agreed. Given Robin's near total lack of knowledge regarding the area, it would be wisest to give her the reassurance of having someone to follow and someone at her back. Besides, Byleth didn't mind.

She mounted her horse, ready for a long day of riding. To her credit, Robin didn't look at all put-out at the early hour, or the fact that they'd be eating at the majority of their meals on the road for the foreseeable future, rummaging for tidbits out of their saddlebags.

Jeralt nudged Hidalgo into a brisk trot, and Robin quickly followed suit. Byleth watched the strange insignia on the back of Robin's cloak for a minute before nudging her own mount to follow. Six eyes stared back at her, judging her as the sunlight slowly rose to light the gaps between the forest canopy. Puzzling over what the symbol could possibly mean helped her while away a few hours before she lost interest. Her head hurt. She'd seen that symbol before noticing it on Robin's cloak. Hadn't she?

  
  


* * *

  
  


A few nights into the trip, she realized what it reminded her of; that strange symbol on Robin’s cloak. It looked like the sort of thing the nobles so often bragged about having. A Crest, that was it. It looked almost like a Crest, though Byleth didn't know all too much about those, or what they meant. Besides, Robin didn't hail from Fódlan. 

It couldn't be a Crest, could it? 

And if it were, what did it mean? What did that make Robin? Who was she, really? Though it wasn't typical for her―something that her father would tease her for admitting―she simply couldn't atllow the matter to drop. The questions buzzed in her mind, keeping her awake despite her best efforts to sleep, night after night. The girl in her head, angry at first, soon added her own questions to Byleth's, humming to herself before providing some sort of answer or rebuff for a theory of Byleth's that she didn't like.

Who was Robin, really? Her new friend, yes; but on the other hand, a stranger still, from a strange land, here under strange circumstances.

A stranger with a Crested cloak.


	2. Prologue, Clear Skies, Great Tree Moon: The Mystery of the Mercenaries

**Imperial Year 1175, Twenty-second of the Great Tree Moon**

Her mind buzzed, quieter than normal. A good sign. It had taken them almost three months, quite a bit more time than they'd originally expected, but within an hour they would reach their destination.  _ Remire Village. _

Aside from being the place where this leg of their journey ended, the name truly meant nothing to her. Jeralt, through a kindness one would not know him to possess simply from looking at him, had spent the last two months casually bringing up places of note on the continent. He had taken special care to differentiate between places within the Adrestian Empire, Leicester Alliance, and the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. From time to time, he told her about his travels outside the continent, of the lands of Brigid and Dagda to the west, of Almyra to the east. Those stories were more limited, but the fact remained that he tried.

Despite such kindness, nothing resonated with her. Not a single town, city, or nation he mentioned felt like the one to which she belonged. Of course, she couldn't say how she knew, for certain; only that she knew. Her mind buzzed again, the sound vague, unremarkable aside from how much it sounded as if someone were trying to say her name.

Robin focused on the sound, eyes screwed shut with concentration. 

_ "Do you hear me now? Do you hear me, Robin?" _

She heard hatred. Anger. The voice in her head, scoffed, repeating the same words over and over. Robin had heard it before, certainly; it  _ knew _ her. She breathed out, then in, doing her best to ignore it as she turned her head to Jeralt, his gruff, warm voice a comfort against the bitterness in her head.

"Maybe you're from one of the southern continents. Unfortunately, I've lived in Fódlan most of my life. My knowledge of the rest of the world has suffered with the decades."

She laughed along with his apologetic chuckle. "It's quite alright, Jeralt, I'm sure things will come back to me sooner or later."

He patted her on the back with the force of a man who knew his own strength, but still didn't quite know how to soften his gestures. "Is it wrong of me to say I hope it's later, rather than sooner?" He chuckled again. "Nah, but seriously Robin. It's been nice for us to have you around. My daughter may not express it all too much, but I can tell she really likes having a friend like you around. She treats you like an older sister. Or at least, how I imagine she might have treated an older sister, if she'd had one." He fell quiet, his eyes suddenly distant.

She allowed him a moment to sit quietly; undoubtedly he was thinking of the wife he'd lost. Robin didn't want to think herself so special, but the Ashen Demon, as Byleth was apparently called, truly did feel like something of a sister to her despite—or perhaps thanks to—her multitudinous eccentricities. The years she presumably had on the young mercenary lent the idea of such a relationship some plausibility, too. "I am truly heartened that you both should so enjoy my company, Jeralt. It has been a pleasure to travel with you."

"It's like having two kids, with the kind of trouble you two have managed to get up to in such a short time." A faint blush tinged his cheeks, though he looked like he desperately needed her to ignore it. From such a powerful mercenary, the gesture was very sweet.

She smiled and patted his arm lightly, allowing him the chance to walk away with his kind, slightly awkward grin. He was not a particularly emotional man, but he did love his daughter dearly; she'd seen it countless times throughout their months together. An unwavering love, it was, always well-intentioned and caring, if not always in line with what Byleth wanted at the time. That Jeralt was glad of her friendship with his only child pleased her greatly. 

And his quip about having two children…well, Jeralt's devotion to his daughter, though perhaps not as obvious to outsiders, had struck her from the moment they'd introduced themselves. To think that in some way, he felt some sort of connection to her as well heartened her further. To think that in some way, she belonged...

_ …bin…Rob…ome…home… _

She sighed. She'd hoped that the whispers in her head would get stronger over time, but things had been this way since she woke up months ago. They were different from the voice she'd heard in her head. Less defined. An image of Byleth's passively concerned face came to mind as Robin mulled over muffled, broken words. 

They'd talked about the whispers, trading theories about Robin's non-answers and the strange dreams Byleth had been having, of late. No matter, though. Their destination was near. There were other things to worry about now; like why Byleth was sitting on the ground, eyes fixed on a point somewhere far away. Conversing with the girl in her head again, perhaps.

"Leth?"

"Ro."

She smiled, dropping down into a seated position beside her friend. "Lost in thought, are you?" And she'd seemed, for a second, all alone.

"It happens sometimes," Byleth answered. The expression on her face when she turned to Robin wasn't quite a smile, but something close enough to one that Robin smiled back. "It's only about an hour to Remire Village now."

"Yes, your father told me. What's the job there, anyway?"

"We're supposed to be exterminating some wild beasts in the forests nearby. It's probably going to be a few wolves, a small pack if anything, and maybe a Giant Hawk or two. Not sure why they didn't push us to rush, but I think we're meant to be more a preventative measure than anything else." Byleth stretched, barely making a sound as she curled inward, then rose onto her feet. "Are you any good with a bow?"

"I believe I'm a fair shot if I need to be, but swords and magic are more my thing. I might have had some training with a lance at some point, as well, though I can't be sure about that." Not that she'd seen any tomes for sale in any of the places they'd passed through. She'd looked everywhere. 

Byleth blinked slowly, which Robin had learned to be a sign for when her friend was thinking. "You know magic?"

Perhaps they did things differently in Fódlan, then, if magic was a skill one could learn. "Yes, I believe so."

"Could you try…oh, I dunno. Try something simple. Fire?"

Fire. How...rudimentary. Robin opened her palm, unsure of what would come of it without a—"Ah. Well look at that." A perfect ball of flame hovered just about the skin of her palm, warm to her, but nothing more than warm. She closed her hand, then opened it again. The ball of flame had disappeared.

"That could come in handy," Byleth said after a moment, offering her a hand so that she could stand as well. "Do you know any other spells?"

"I believe so, though nothing I'd be comfortable testing without a proper target."

"Sensible. Could you do it when we fight off the monsters for Remire?"

"Yes, I don't think that should be a problem." Even despite the lack of a tome in her pack, she truly didn't think it would be. She'd said she knew magic, and she had been able to cast Fire without any real struggle at all. Other spells would surely come to mind if she needed them.

The fact that Byleth hadn't hesitated to ask endeared her to Robin. She didn't hide curiosity if she felt it, though Robin felt certain that the other woman would have just as easily respected Robin refusing to prove her abilities. In that sense, Byleth had an easy way about her; she was placid, rather passive in almost everything. Or at least, she appeared to be so. There was a kindness to her, as well, and a strange sense of practicality despite her choice in fashion. Even despite the rumours that the Ashen Demon was a soulless, heartless monster, she knew better than that.

Despite all that people said, Robin had witnessed Byleth express emotions countless times in the few short months since they'd first met. Nothing grand, and she certainly didn't seem at ease with showing it, but it was somewhat difficult to believe Jeralt's stories about how emotionless his daughter had been as a child. She was certainly reserved, and more likely to respond with an even voice and flat expression than anything else, but emotionless? Not so.

Were anyone else to ask her to describe Byleth, the word she would use would be subtle; perhaps not in her words, as she seemed to have inherited her father's lack of tact to some degree, but in the handling of her emotions. They were there, certainly. Perhaps Robin had a particularly easy go of deciphering them. They were just…difficult to see on the surface.

Difficult, perhaps, for Byleth to call them to the surface, whether or not she realized it.

Robin thought there was simply something special about her.

_ "Now why would you think that, you cur? I grant you, the other mortal does smell strange…she has an old scent about her." _

She ignored the voice in her head; it didn't make much more sense than the whispers, even despite the coherent sentences.

"Let's get going then. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can eat." Byleth paused, the thoughtful expression on her face now one of sly not-quite-amusement. "Then we can kill the beasts and enjoy the celebratory feast."

Robin laughed. "I knew you were only in this business for the food."

"Don't tell my dad."

* * *

Remire Village was as she'd expected; simple, quaint, and filled with kind people with sweet expressions hiding the slight fear in their eyes whenever they turned to look toward the forest. The mayor greeted them with such enthusiasm that one might have thought them to be people of far greater import than a trio of mercenaries. Robin had not wanted for food since Byleth and Jeralt had taken her in, but the feast the people of Remire Village laid before them that night was far beyond anything she could have expected.

"Enjoy yourselves tonight, kids," said Jeralt as he passed them by, what looked like a fishing pole grasped loosely in one hand. "I'm going to duck out, there was a nice looking pond over that way. Be ready to go early tomorrow."

Robin swallowed her mouthful of lamb. "Of course, Jeralt."

"Sure, dad, have a good time," Byleth said, eyeing a walnut cake topped with jam. "Don't stay up too late."

The brief, but tender smile Jeralt gave his daughter almost seemed out of place. It was adorable, as was the way Byleth's face scrunched up for a moment as Jeralt laid a hand on her head, ruffling her hair. At Robin's laughter a second smile claimed his face, and he ruffled her hair too, mussing the twin tails and the loose section in the middle, alike. He walked away after that, whistling to himself as his free hand came up to fiddle with the fishing rod.

"You should try this, Robin," said Byleth, holding up half the cake. It clearly hadn't been  _ cut _ in half, but Robin took it anyway. For having been strangers only a few months ago, they'd become extremely close. At least, she felt so. It was admittedly  _ difficult _ to deduce Byleth's feelings from her expressions alone, but to outright ask wouldn't be polite. If anything, the question might confuse Byleth.

Robin watched as the younger woman moved on to the next thing to catch her interest. "I don't believe I've ever seen anyone eat so quickly." Perhaps she had, actually, but not in recent memory. She sighed before taking a bite of the cake; thinking about it always did upset her, but it was hard not to feel the lack of her memory as something painful.

Who was she? Did she have friends? A family?

_ "Useless questions, stop asking them, maggot!" _

_ "Shut up." _

The voice in her head thundered at her rudeness. Vaguely male, perhaps higher than it should have been, though she couldn’t be sure how it should have sounded. Angry enough that the sensation of its roaring jarred her head just a little.  _ "HOW DARE YOU?" _

She sighed, taking another bite of the cake. _ "Shut. Up." _

"You look sad." Byleth paused in lifting a loaf of honey-slathered bread to her mouth. She offered it to Robin instead, the little quirk of her lips that passed for a smile appearing on her face. "First bite?"

Robin shook her head. "I'm okay, thank you. I'm just…sometimes it hits me, you know? That there's this whole life somewhere out there that I'm missing out on." She sighed, leaning against Byleth's shoulder. "But then, when I think like that, I also think of the last few months, and I'm guilty about it; you and Jeralt have been so good to me."

"We care about you. And it's not like you're a burden," Byleth said, and Robin couldn't help but giggle at the mild look of surprise on her friend's face. Well  _ that  _ was certainly a different expression than anything else she’d seen.

"You don't say things like that very much, do you?"

"I think you might be the first person I've ever told that." Byleth took a swig of ale before adding, "And as you've undoubtedly noticed, I'm not exactly a 'feelings' kind of person. Got it from Dad, I think."

Robin giggled again, nodding. She'd never met anyone who could claim to be less of a 'feelings' kind of person than Byleth, or at least, she was fairly certain she hadn't. By comparison, even  _ Jeralt _ seemed notably expressive. "It's kind of hard to believe how distant you seem, sometimes. You've never been anything short of good and kind to me." Of course, she'd also noticed how difficult it was to faze Byleth, how her expression the majority of the time seemed just…empty. 

But those moments, at least for Robin, had almost always been few and far between.

Byleth offered her little somewhat-smile again, bumping their shoulders together once more. "You're the first friend I've had in my whole life. Plus you're older, and could probably beat me in a fight. Makes sense to treat you well."

Robin laughed and shook her head again as Byleth tried repeatedly to feed her various sweets. There was something missing in her friend's words; she didn't  _ truly _ seemed bothered that she hadn't had friends prior to Robin. A mystery, to be sure.

Then again, Byleth was rather mysterious, and so very different from any of the people Robin had met since being found lying in some random field just along the coast of Fódlan. She seemed muted, almost, subtle—that word again—in her emotions, in a manner that puzzled almost everyone they'd come across.

Robin, however, couldn’t bring herself to care for her new friend any less.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Despite how long it had taken them to get there, the job Remire Village had hired them for took no longer than the next morning, and a few hours past lunch. As Robin and Byleth sat together afterward, polishing the blood off their blades, Jeralt spoke with the headman. He came back to them with a grin on his face.

"We're in line for another job so we've got to leave tomorrow, at dawn. Heading off to the coast, some problems have come up between the Empire, Dagda, and Brigid. You’ll want to think of getting rid of some of your heavier clothes, for now.”

“Yes, sir,” Robin said, catching herself at his raised eyebrow. “Ah, yes, Jeralt.”

“In the meantime the two of you can do whatever you like." He ruffled Byleth's hair, then Robin's, whistling to himself as he swapped out his lance for his fishing rod. "Remember, tomorrow at dawn, girls!"

"We're not going to see him until tomorrow, are we?"

Byleth nodded, a light in her eyes as they watched Jeralt walk away, a slight spring in his step. Given the bulk of him, armour and all, it was truly rather amusing. "I think it would be safest to assume so, yes."

"What did you want to do, then?" Robin asked, sheathing Balmung after one more scrutinizing glance. "Hungry?"

"Not really." Robin studied her friend carefully. Byleth's lovely eyes, at first so blank to her, seemed to give more of a hint as to her feelings now, if only on a level so deep that Robin only noted it due to how much time they'd spent together. "You're looking at me like Dad does. I'm…glad."

"You don't look it, Leth," she said, pulling the other woman up along with her. "But I know you are, so I'm glad for it, too."

Byleth clasped her hand tightly for a moment before letting go. "Pick something to do, Ro. I don't want to."

"Blunt of you."

"I'm always blunt," Byleth pointed out, though Robin picked out a trace of light teasing in her friend's neutral voice.

"Not with me, you aren't. In all honesty, Leth, I'm sure you're actually an extremely passionate person, underneath all this...stoicism." She sighed, clasping her hands to her chest the way she'd seen a woman do in one of the little hamlets they'd passed through. "The type to write her lover pages upon pages of flowery, romantic letters. Poems. Sonnets!"

Byleth laughed gently, the sound at odds with her bland expression. "I doubt that, but who knows? You could very well be right. Between the two of us I'd wager you’re definitely smarter."

"You're only saying that," she replied, "I know you're just as smart. You've as much a head for strategy as I do."

"Ah, but you're smart about more than tactics, fighting, and weaponry. You…understand people. Even without your memories. That's why you're smarter, in general."

Robin shook her head, though she could not keep a smile on her face. Her friend's words touched her, brought her a feeling of warm pride that settled over her chest. The younger woman's voice sounded far more earnest than the blank look in her eyes would suggest. "Speaking of fighting, would you mind showing me that one move you do? The um…the s—" she stopped herself short of trying to verbalize it, making a slight adjustment to her stance to properly mimic the move.

Byleth watched her, perfectly still, then drew her blade and performed the technique for Robin. Fluid, effortless. "This one?"

"Yes, please! I've watched you do it so many times now, but I just can't seem to figure it out."

"I'll show you," Byleth said, nodding agreeably, "but only if you show me that one parry and strike combination of yours. I've tried to watch but you're too fast."

They headed out to a field just a little out of the way of the village. A few of the children in the area scampered along, following them. The children perched on logs and soft patches of grass, young eyes wide.  _ Adorable _ . The sight of them made Robin's heart wrench, except that she couldn't focus on that too much because Byleth leapt toward her without warning, the iron sword in her hand outstretched. Robin reached for the iron sword she kept at her own waist—something simple for whenever they stayed in town—a laugh tearing from her lips as she spun away. "Teaching through action?"

"Best way to learn," Byleth called back, sounding faintly amused.

A sparring match it was, then. "You're just trying to keep busy 'til dinner, is that it?" She laughed again, dancing away just before Byleth's blade could catch her on the backswing. "Didn't Jeralt already tell us not to practice with live weapons?"

Byleth flipped away from a strike of Robin's own, her familiar quarter-smile just a little broader on her lips. Though it would have been foolish to admit it aloud now of all times, there was something so fierce in the way Byleth fought, even just in training, that always gave Robin pause. Thrilling to watch, really. "Did he?" Byleth lunged again.

Robin struck the feint aside and ducked low to avoid the kick Byleth aimed at her head. "Watch it! And yes, I believe he did." She threw herself at Byleth blade-first, unsurprised when her friend's sword swung up to block the blow just in time.

The smallest sparks of what might have been joy and  _ something _ else shone in Byleth's eyes as they struggled to push each other off, away. "I won't tell Dad if you won't." 

  
  


* * *

  
  


They both woke before dawn, Robin's eyes cracking open as Byleth sat up, rubbing her own eyes. One after the other, almost like clockwork. Jeralt had noticed it first, commenting on the fact that they both slept and woke so similarly as to be a little worrying. She supposed they did find it somewhat unsettling, almost as if one could not remain asleep once the other awoke. Both of them had long since attributed it to simple proximity and left it at that. The voice in her head—the firm one, not the garbled mess of whispers—seemed conspicuously silent. "Good morning, Leth."

"I dreamt again…about a war. And a young girl…" The girl she sometimes spoke to in her mind, undoubtedly. “Her name is Sothis. She finally told me her name.”

She didn't make a joke out of it, didn’t even think to do so. Byleth spoke with the quiet voice of one who had been mocked for sharing such a thing before. She could never mock her friend for something like this. 

Byleth's dreams had all been similar in the last few months. A massive war. A battlefield drenched in blood and decorated with countless dead bodies. A young girl with long green hair, and pointed ears. Not quite human, but familiar.

Something stirred and tugged in her chest at the thought, though Robin couldn't imagine why.

_ Ro…ake up…ome…home… _

_ "Ugh, and you are supposed to be a smart woman?" _

She must have grimaced her displeasure at the lack of guidance in the whispers and the vitriol in the other voice. A young man, she realized. He sounded closer to being a boy than a man, though she didn’t think he would appreciate the thought. She wasn’t quite ready to deal with his roaring and raging just yet.

Byleth turned to her, expression unreadable. "Nothing new this morning?"

"No." She stopped, then added, "The young man in my thoughts doesn't seem to like me, much, though."

Byleth only nodded at that, unfazed. 

They spoke quietly as they dressed, rolling things up and replacing them in their packs before stepping out into the cool of the not-yet-morning. It was far too early for them to be awake, but Robin's body felt warm in the way that told her she wouldn't be able to sleep again. Not even if she tried. 

"Not dawn yet girls, is everything okay?" asked Jeralt as they walked over to where he was standing. He looked tense, more so than usual, and when Robin stopped to think about it, she realized he's been that way for a while now. Since they first arrived in Remire, though of course he'd hidden it well, disappearing off to the fishing pond as often as he had in the last two days.

"I had that dream again, Dad. About the war."

"No shortage of wars throughout history, kiddo," he replied, placing a hand on his daughter's shoulder. Something about the words rang a little hollow. As if he were thinking about something much more specific than the history of the continent. He turned his gaze to Robin, reaching his free hand out to place on her own shoulder. "And are you okay, Robin?"

"I'm fine, Jeralt, thank you," she said. “Ready for the day, too.”

"Man, why can't the whole company be more like you two?" He sighed, love for Byleth and warm regard for Robin written all over his grizzled face.

Byleth swung a casual arm across Robin's shoulders. "You're lucky, Dad. One diligent child is a gift enough, but two? There must be someone watching over you."

Robin flushed at the implication, but even though they weren't really a family it felt…nice. Unbelievably so. To feel like she was wanted, like she  _ belonged _ .

"Now why would you go saying something like that?" Jeralt's booming voice felt softer in the morning dark, far softer than she'd ever heard it before. "Aw hell, you're right. I uh, hope you're okay with this, Robin, but clearly my daughter and I have taken quite a shine to you. I know you're trying to figure things out, but until you do…do you think you would want to stay with us?"

He'd made the offer months before, and she'd accepted, albeit conditionally, but now… it felt different now. Robin stood before them, this man and his daughter who had so easily taken her into their confidence, who'd kept her armed, clothed, and fed for months without asking for much in return. They were mercenaries, yes, but she didn't think she had a problem with that; who was to say, after all, that in the life she'd lived before coming to Fódlan, she hadn't been one herself? She knew no one else, and besides, she liked Byleth and Jeralt greatly. Far too greatly to leave them just yet.

"I would love to stay," she said.

The mysterious mercenaries who'd let her into their lives opened their arms to her in a rare show of affection. Robin stepped into the embrace with a smile.

"So," she said when they all pulled apart, "where are we going next?"  
  



	3. Prologue, Clear Skies, Blue Sea Moon: Whispers in the Night

**Imperial Year 1176, Twentieth of the Blue Sea Moon**

The night was angry, and Byleth woke to a wailing in her head that would not ease. The girl, Sothis, she could not sleep, and so, neither could Byleth. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the howling sky. Lying in the bedroll only a foot away from Byleth, Robin woke, her eyes black in the dim starlight. 

Byleth's thoughts drifted. 

Soon they would be able to sleep in their own rooms, in an inn in a decent city. But not now. Not until the end of this next job, at least. For now, they had to make due with their well-worn bedrolls, and the hard ground underneath. Under the stars on such an angry, windswept night.

Even the wind could show emotion, it seemed. Why then, couldn’t she?

For once, Sothis didn’t have a quip at the ready. In the back of Byleth’s mind, she continued to wail. Byleth shivered without meaning to. It wasn't cold for northern Faerghus, not at all. Not compared to the kind of temperatures they were to be travelling into come morning. She shivered again, anyway, unable to stop the tremors from rippling up and down her spine. 

"Leth?" Robin sounded far too awake. Had she been having trouble sleeping, too?

"Sis," she murmured, her head pounding with Sothis's rage. She'd never felt so _ angry _, her moods normally tempered by what Byleth assumed to be their shared neutral nature. "Sothis is angry…she won't speak to me."

Robin closed her eyes slowly. Opened them again. "I'm sorry. I think it's his fault."

"His…oh. I see." She nodded. That would make sense. "Tell Reflet he's lucky he lives in your head, or I'd kill him."

Robin chuckled—a sound Byleth had come to like hearing very much—and her eyes closed again as she laughed. "You're frightening when you say things like that, Leth." She opened her eyes again. "I’ll tell him."

The glassy, blank gaze of Robin's dark eyes could have rivalled her own normal stare, but Byleth knew better. Robin—her sister now, in word, deed, and name—had to focus to talk to Reflet. The boy in the corner of Robin’s mind—though perhaps they should have called him a young man—could be stubborn. Refusal to cooperate was the norm, as far as he was concerned. Never mind the fact that they'd only named him Reflet after failing to pry his true name from him, assuming he even knew it to begin with.

Byleth's sister seemed to do a good job of keeping him in line, whatever or whoever he was.

"He's pouting at me now," Robin said. Her voice had lost much of the accent it had first carried when they’d met over a year ago. Now it was little more than an extra lilt, a flourish on some of her words. "But it was his fault, even if he won't admit it to me. Please tell Sothis that I am _ truly _ sorry for him, and I'll be dealing with him accordingly for upsetting her so."

Sothis murmured something, soothed by Robin's voice, it seemed. Byleth tried to focus, but the words were just barely audible, and she knew she was definitely missing most of them. Something about a miracle, about a foolish false-god with too much anger in his heart to be useful. She didn't understand, but relayed the words to Robin anyway. Robin had a better grasp of such lofty notions as gods and miracles; unlike Byleth and Jeralt, she made it a point to visit the various churches and temples they passed during their travels.

Byleth had asked her why, a few months after they left Remire. Robin had explained that while she didn’t feel a connection to the religion of Fódlan, she believed there was a faith to which she had once belonged. Somewhere out there. It wasn’t at all a logical answer, but how could she fault her sister for her belief, even if neither of them knew the name of the god to whom Robin might have prayed? 

Byleth hadn't been raised with anything like that. Jeralt had traded such pretty words and ideas for a scripture of blood, sweat, and steel. It had served her well so far, though watching her adoptive sister sit, contemplating Sothis' whisperings and the voice in her own head, she wondered if it might benefit her to at least _ learn _. Just the basics. Just so she could try to understand the things that Robin had her ask Sothis, and the responses the girl asked her to relay, in turn.

"Leth?"

"Yeah, Sis?"

"You alright there?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, Sis." She wasn't actually sure, but there wasn't any reason to worry her sister if she didn't have to, right? And besides, it was Sothis who was angry right now, not Byleth. Yes, _ yeah _, Byleth herself was fine. As always. Nothing could faze her, nothing could ruffle her proverbial feathers.

Except that she was admittedly about as discomfited as she'd ever been in her life.

Robin's eyes narrowed slightly, and the tiniest shiver of something—anxiety? guilt?—rose in her chest. She'd never lied to Robin, not since they met, and though this wasn't a lie per se, it was close enough to it. Not that she should have thought she could convince Robin that everything was fine, anyway. She couldn't control her body so well as to hide the shivers, the gooseflesh pricking up and down her arms. Robin hummed, the sound coming from the back of her throat. "Try to get some sleep, then. Father wants us up at dawn."

"He always wants us to be up at dawn," she said.

Robin chuckled, stretching her hand out to brush strands of dark hair from Byleth's eyes. "That does seem to be the case. You should rest anyway, sister."

Byleth knew her expression must have looked the same as it usually did—Robin would have commented were anything to be different—but her stomach felt _ warm _. No, not quite her stomach. But she felt warm nonetheless.

Sothis hummed in her head, the same tune neither of them could place. _ "You've benefited greatly from gaining a sister, haven't you?" _

Byleth knew she had, in more ways than one, but she fell asleep before she could answer, lulled by the rush of the wind and rain over head.

The night was still angry, but it could not harm her here.

* * *

The angry young man the night had been had aged into a weary, grey old man by dawn. Byleth rolled out of bed, unsurprised to find Robin rousing herself as well. They didn't speak as they prepared their things. Robin spent most mornings lost in her own mind, though perhaps _ lost _ was the wrong word. Even without her memories, she always seemed so sure of herself.

Their father waited by where they'd tied their mounts, just outside of the village limits. It seemed like he'd been awake for hours already, though Byleth wouldn't be surprised if he'd just roused himself from last night's drinking with the locals.

"Any better this morning?" Robin asked.

Jeralt paused as he adjusted Hidalgo's saddlebags. Byleth would have cursed her father's strangely keen hearing, except that it was far too valuable a thing to want to curse away. Instead, she settled for throwing her sister a pointed gaze. Based on the small smile on Robin's lips, it didn't look pointed at all. "Trouble sleeping, kiddo?"

Byleth sighed, though she didn't doubt that to anyone else it would just look and sound like an oddly deep exhale instead of an intentional sigh. Her family, at least, could tell what she'd meant to do. At least, it seemed like it, if the look her father and sister exchanged was any indication. "I'm fine. So—sorry, didn't mean to worry anyone."

Robin nodded, accepting the apology before their father could comment on the slip. Byleth did not slip, nor did she stutter. She'd been able to speak in a perfectly coherent manner by the age of four. "It's okay, Leth. Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, I should be fine." She checked her own horse's saddlebags before swinging up into the saddle. "So…we're going where, exactly?"

"Kingdom territory. Northern Faerghus. Some count by the name of Rowe wanted some extra muscle," Jeralt said. "The rest of the men should be there already. We're about a half-day's ride away."

"I'm guessing we'll have little time to prepare once we arrive, Father?" Robin asked.

Byleth would have laughed if such a thing came easily to her. Her sister's manners and language had only seemed to grow even prettier in the last year. Neither she nor their father could say they didn't enjoy it though; after spending so much time with coarse, rough mercenary types—though they loved their company dearly—Robin's particular refinement proved enjoyable.

"That's right, kid," said Jeralt, "You two won't be too tired? We can make a stop somewhere if we need to."

Robin shook her head, her delicate smile a lovely sight in the middle of such a dreary morning. "We should get to the others as quickly as possible."

Byleth nodded. "Sis is right."

"My kids sure are diligent," Jeralt said, a smile spreading across his face. "Well then, shall we? The day isn't getting any younger after all."

"How about a race, Ro?" Byleth asked, surprising them all with her spontaneity. "I mean…if you wanted to?"

"Well, I don't know if either of these old boys could outrun Hidalgo, but…" Robin trailed off, and Byleth caught a glimpse of her sister's tricky smile before the older woman said, "last one to the forest has to catch lunch for the other two!"

She dug her heels into her mount's sides, the eager beast soaring away at her touch. Jeralt's booming laughter resounded through the plains as he nudged Hidalgo to give chase, and Byleth sat atop her horse watching them for a moment. The sounds of laughter…so wonderful to hear.

_ "You could do it too, you know, _ " Sothis said, still sleepy. _ "Laugh, I mean." _

"I know…I just don't think I know how."

Willing away the strange feeling that washed over her at her own silent confession, she too nudged her mount to pursue. 

* * *

  


The smell of ash and blood hit them moments away from reaching their company's camp. Raz—one of their oldest comrades—rushed up to greet them. Sweat glistened on his dark skin and made his white-grey hair look darker. There was no fear in the man's eyes, which Byleth had come to expect from Raz, but he seemed…agitated. No. Angry.

"What is it, Raz?"

"It's…it's a massacre, Captain?"

Beside her, Robin tensed. Screaming filled the air; men, women and children alike. "Gods above…what's happening here?"

"It's the Kingdom soldiers. They're attacking Duscur."

"Retaliation for the Tragedy," Robin murmured. Byleth turned to her. Why did Robin always seem to know more than she did?

_ "You're said it yourself before. She's smarter than you," _ Sothis said. The usual playfulness of her tone felt greatly subdued. " _ Your father looks…concerned. Strange." _

It _ was _ strange, actually. Byleth could never remember a time when her father had ever seemed half so worried. "Raz, tell the others to get ready to move." He shook his head. "We're not getting involved."

Raz didn't question his leader. There would always be jobs, especially for Jeralt's mercenaries. If her father had deemed this situation too unsafe for the company, they would all respect it.

He'd only ever pulled them out of a job a few times before. Four times at most, perhaps five?

"You're mounting up again now, girls. I want you to start riding for the meeting point east of Fhirdiad. Byleth, you remember the way." It wasn't a question, which was just as well. She'd travelled the continent more than enough to have memorized the paths they needed to take. "And you saw the map, Robin?"

"Yes, but aren't we all going together?"

He shook his head. "I have to cancel this job."

Something cold settled in Byleth's stomach. She couldn't explain it, but the look on his face brooked no argument, anyway. "I understand." She didn't really, but the screaming was getting closer, louder. Her father's jaw stood out, strained and at odds with his calm stance. He was forcing himself to be calm? But why?

"Let's go, Leth." Robin exchanged a look with their father, a nod and a similar set to their mouths that Byleth couldn't understand. Robin turned away first, mouthing, "We'll talk later."

She nodded her acquiescence at that, knowing her sister wouldn't hide anything from her.

_ "Not unless your father asked her to, of course." _

Sothis did have a point. After all, Byleth kept her father's concern for Robin quiet at his request. Older though she might have been, their father's reasoning for having them together constantly was more for Robin's sake than Byleth's. Though they were rare, she had suffered fainting spells before, and clever though she was she still did not know Fódlan the same way Byleth or the others did. Their father would not suffer losing his adoptive eldest, wouldn't bear it well if ever it came to pass. 

She didn't think she would either.

Robin took the lead, the two of them riding away from the destruction of Duscur at a pace that would have been worrisome were she prone to such feelings. Her sister did not allow them to stop until the horses had begun to pant from exhaustion. At that she slowed, then guided her horse toward the forests that lined the path down which they rode.

"We're going in the right direction, right?" she asked as she dismounted, guiding her mount to the nearby stream.

"…you weren't sure?"

Robin studied her for a moment, a small smile breaking the stern expression she'd worn for the majority of the ride. "Just a joke, my dear sister," she said. Byleth tensed. Robin only ever called her that when something bothered her, and she didn't want to bring it up.

_ "You know, for someone so passive, you seem particularly well-attuned to this woman." _

Byleth couldn't argue with that. Robin just…made it easy to feel attached—or at least, as attached as Byleth could get to another person. It wasn't just Byleth, either; she'd never seen her father warm to someone so quickly, and yet new people they met had no trouble believing the three of them as a family.

None of which really mattered at the moment, as Robin seemed to be hiding something from her. "Sis. Why did Dad pull us out of the job?"

"Do you remember hearing about the Tragedy of Duscur, two moons or so ago?"

"I think so. The king of Faerghus was assassinated, supposedly by Duscur, right?"

Robin shook her head. "Far more people than King Lambert lost their lives that day. Every knight who accompanied him was killed as well, including the heir of House Fraldarius. Slaughtered to a man. The queen consort has been missing ever since and is presumed dead. The only confirmed survivor is the crown prince, Dimitri, and the gods only know what will become of that boy." She sounded mournful, as if hurt on the behalf of a boy she didn't know. Strange.

"Okay. So…" She felt something cold in her stomach again. "So the Kingdom is retaliating against Duscur."

"You heard Raz. They aren't just retaliating, Leth. They…it's a massacre. Complete suppression of the Duscur people. I…it will be a surprise to me if there are many survivors when the Kingdom is through."

Tears pricked at the corners of Robin's eyes, and Byleth felt as if she were missing something. She could understand the horror of the Kingdom's actions, and her stomach flipped at the remembrance of all those screaming innocents. And yet…

_ "You shouldn't worry so much that you cannot cry for strangers. Sad though their fate is, if you cannot weep, you cannot." _

Sothis was, as usual, correct on some level, at least, but what did that say about her, that she could not weep at suffering? If her father and Raz were to be believed, she had never once shed a tear. They wouldn’t like about something like that.

Robin placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hey. It's fine. It’s…well, I wouldn't say it will all be alright in the end but…But we can do little, at this point."

"Dad sent us away first because of you," she said softly, watching Robin's face tighten. "Not an accusation, Sis. But I meant, he was worried for your safety." She was probably right, too, though she couldn't place exactly why that might be.

"Father does go out of his way to keep me safe. As do you, though I can't imagine why. I know my way around a fair few handy skills." Robin looked younger, somehow, her eyes softer around the corners than they usually were, if that made sense. "I do appreciate it though. How much you care for me." She shuddered, the tears falling from her eyes. Byleth’s chest felt odd. Tight? She wasn’t injured, but watching Robin cry…

_ “Interesting. And what will you do now?” _

Byleth drew in a breath and wrapped her arms around her sister. She didn't particularly understand the point of such embraces, but it seemed appropriate. Robin felt stiff in her arms for a second before she relaxed. One of her hands came up to Byleth's head to ruffle her hair the way their father so often did. 

"Are you okay, Leth?"

She pulled away, surprised to find she missed being so close to another person; no, close to her sister—she couldn't imagine being that close to anyone else, aside from their father, but he wasn't one to embrace his children. "Sorry, was that wrong?"

"No, not at all," said Robin, a small smile on her face. "I was just a little surprised…but glad, too."

How could that be? Weren't those emotions conflicting?

_ "Human emotion is a complex thing. Oh, what am I going to do with you…" _

_ “You could help, maybe?” _

_ “I suppose I could...but how would one even begin to explain?“ _

"Sothis, again?" Robin asked, her voice gentle. Byleth nodded, then froze as her ears caught onto the faintest of sounds. Hoofbeats from down the road. Their company?

No. These were not coming from the path down which they'd ridden, but from the direction in which they'd been heading. "Horses."

"More soldiers..." 

It didn't seem likely that they would come across trouble, but even still, Byleth pulled on the reins of her horse, then Robin's. She guided them into the forest until they wouldn't be visible to those on the road. They were a quiet pair, and the stream and forest were not without their own noises. It would be fine. "Come on, Sis."

Robin followed after a moment more spent looking down the road. "How long do you think it'll take them to pass us?" She ran a hand through her hair, tawny bronze-brown slipping between strands of silver-white. "Leth?"

"Ten minutes, maybe?" Give or take a few.

"And then another ten to give them some distance before we move on."

She nodded. Working with Robin was always so easy.

They huddled together, inching closer to the road to get a look. The foliage wasn't perfect, but they were both quiet enough. Unless the soldiers riding past were spectacularly observant—or spectacularly lucky—they would probably be fine.

Within the ten minutes she'd predicted, a contingent of cavaliers guided by a grizzled paladin came thundering down the road from Fhirdiad. Byleth noted the glint of the setting sun on their armour and pushed her sister further back toward where their horses hid. While she did find it beautiful, Robin's hair wouldn't be too hard to pick out if the sun hit it just right.

_ "You think one of those fools might notice, even through the trees?" _

She ignored Sothis, focusing on keeping her sister behind her arm. She didn't move until she could no longer hear the faintest hoofbeats, though even had she still been able to, it seemed she had exhausted Robin's patience.

Robin rolled under her arm, then sprung away with the kind of grace Byleth only seemed capable of accessing on the battlefield. "What was that about?"

Something clicked in her head. "Dad was scared the Kingdom soldiers would think you were from Duscur. I couldn't let them see you."

"Ah. Just based on my skin and hair…"

"Maybe. Even though it's not quite the same, I doubt the knights would have cared to look too closely."

"So Father really sent us ahead to keep me safe, then." Byleth couldn't place the emotions in those words. Unsurprising, perhaps, except that the thought that she couldn't fully understand her sister was…upsetting? Was this "being upset"? 

“You okay?”

Robin had turned away, her hands balled and pale, palers than they should have been. "All those people…and we couldn't save a single one? We couldn't do _ anything _?"

Byleth took her sister's hand as soon as she heard the quiver in her voice. Seeing Robin this close to tears again…this _ upset _ her. She thought that was what the strange feeling was, though she couldn't be sure. She didn't really feel much different than normal. Probably didn't look it, either.

_ "I feel it. The stirrings of some emotion…" _ Sothis trailed off. _ "But it isn't time to dwell on this. We should move. Your father will worry if he gets to the meeting place before you." _

"We have to go, Sis."

Robin mounted her horse without another word, gesturing for Byleth to lead now that they were no longer in immediate danger. Byleth left the older girl to her silence. It felt like the appropriate thing to do, even if she couldn't be sure why.

* * *

The grim line of their father's mouth opened into a sigh of relief. Byleth could have sworn she heard a tremor in his breath as it blew past his lips. "You're both safe."

"That's what sisters are for, isn't it?" Robin asked. She fidgeted more than usual. Nervous? Was she nervous? Why would she be nervous at all? "Um…Where's Raz?"

Byleth watched her father's shoulders as they dropped. He was notoriously hard to read to most people, but the rest of the company had already given them space to talk. She knew why, now. "He stayed."

"He did."

"He was from Duscur, originally, wasn't he?" Robin asked, saving them both the need to explain it to her. "Gods…why?"

"Hey, hey, it's all going to be fine, Robbi," said Jeralt, his own pet name for her slipping through in response to her distress. Or something like that. Byleth couldn't be sure. "The Kingdom…tensions have been high between some of the nobles and the people of Duscur for a long, long time. Well before the Tragedy. Some of the more _ aggressive _ nobles decided to take advantage of that tense history."

"I understand, Father, but…was there truly _ nothing _ we could have done?"

He looked between them both, sparing a quick glance to the company behind them before shaking his head. It occurred to Byleth then, that her father did not look old, but nor did he look young. He looked, in a word, weary. "I'm going to tell you both something just this once, so listen up." He waited for them both to nod before saying, "I am _ never _ going to put either of you in a situation where it is more likely that you will die than survive. _ Never, _not if I have a say in it. Robin, you're smart. You know the Kingdom soldiers would have taken one look at you and cut you down without question." He shuddered. "They would have only seen skin darker than theirs and hair that seems common for those of Duscur, and they would have cut you down."

"...yes, Father." She didn’t say anymore, though it seemed like she wanted to. Byleth would have to ask her later, why she held her tongue.

Their father noticed, of course. "Listen, I'm not saying that I agree at all, with the Kingdom or the massacre or any of that. But we aren't heroes, kid. We're mercenaries. And besides, I'm more concerned about Byleth and you than anything or anyone else."

Byleth could tell there was…tension—was that right—between them all, even without Sothis muttering that it was so. She squeezed Robin's hand, the same way she had before. "As far as I'm concerned, it's you two before anyone else. Except, of course, for myself," she added, hoping they could tell it was her attempt at a joke. Even though it was true.

Their father placed one of his large hands on her head. "That's my girl, just like I taught you."

Robin sniffed back her tears, blinking at Byleth. No doubt searching for what she called the "glimmer of emotion" that she swore she could pick out from the blank expression that had won Byleth the moniker "Ashen Demon". She looked young. So very young. Vulnerable in a way Byleth couldn't reconcile to the woman she knew Robin to be. 

"I feel the same, but I just can't help it. I guess I must simply be soft-hearted."

Byleth squeezed her sister's hand one more time. "Continue to be so, Robin. You will be the beating heart, strong enough for the two of us." Robin's smile lifted some of the cold feeling in her stomach, replaced it with something warmer. "You do that, and I will make sure that you keep on beating."

Jeralt’s expression confused her. She’d never seen him look like that, didn’t think she had a word good enough to accurately describe what she saw there. Too many emotions at once, and she had only the barest knowledge of any of them.

"What a great little sister," Robin said after a moment. "Even if you say such things with such a mild expression, I know you mean it."

Their father chanced a laugh into the angry dark of the night, and Byleth held her sister's hand as the company regrouped.

In the back of her mind, Sothis whispered, but she left those thoughts alone.


	4. Prologue, Clear Skies, Red Wolf Moon: The Unkindness of a Kingdom

**Imperial Year 1177, Twelfth of the Red Wolf Moon**

It had taken a long time for Jeralt to agree to bring her on any jobs in or around Faerghan territory. Almost a year, if she remembered right; a year of being sent away, or asked to stay back, or tasked with “important” odd jobs that invariably landed her somewhere outside of Kingdom lands. Much as Robin appreciated her adoptive father's concerns, his decision had rankled, at least for a time. Granted, he'd started trusting her and Byleth to run jobs on their own a few months after placing her on her partial travel embargo, which showed that he did trust in her abilities. 

  
A compromise of sorts. 

  
It hadn't been fully without merit, and any initial poor feelings she'd had had long since flown away. Robin had learned a good deal travelling through the Empire and the Alliance as much as she and her sister had since the Tragedy of Duscur. People were more wary now, all across Fódlan, and the few people of Duscur who had escaped and were not in hiding…well, Robin felt strongly for them. It appeared to her that most, if not all, of the survivors had gone as far from Faerghus as they could.

A smart move, if ultimately none too effective in the long run; people talked, and across all three nations there had grown a general distrust of the survivors of Duscur. The discrimination they faced angered her, but there was little that could be done. As a woman who had been mistaken for being of Duscur on a few occasions—fewer now, as most people chose to assume her to be Almyran—her worries over the situation were perhaps more personal than they might have been. Regardless of her personal feelings on the matter, people shouldn't have had to live like that; especially not innocent people who had done nothing wrong. 

Only a few feet away, her sister tossed and turned in her bedroll. "You're thinking too loudly," Byleth mumbled. Robin tried to stop herself from laughing, and failed. It shouldn't have been so funny, except that where anyone else might have sounded teasing, or perhaps understandably petulant, Byleth simply sounded as she always did. Only Robin and Jeralt could pick out the little things, the tiniest hints that pointed to some form of emotion beneath Byleth's stoic surface.

"I'm sorry, little sister. I woke you, did I?"

"S'okay. You okay?" Byleth's voice nearly faded away into the night. So quiet. She must have been tired; they were to meet up with their father near the Faerghus-Sreng border as soon as possible, but the autumn chill had given way to snow early, and his missive had arrived late. He would wait for them, of course, but the thought of him waiting while the rest of the company grew anxious didn't sit well with Robin. 

They'd been riding far harder than they normally would have to compensate, but Faerghus was unpredictable in some ways, if not in most others.

"I think so. I'm just going to…check the perimeter. I'll be back. Try to get some rest."

Byleth blinked at her once, twice, then shut her eyes again. Robin wasn't sure if she'd be able to sleep until she came back, but it couldn't be helped. As things were, she couldn't sleep, herself, and continuing to try would only prove frustrating. She wasn't frightened of Faerghus, but given how little time she'd spent there in comparison to Imperial lands and Alliance territory, she didn't feel comfortable, either.

_ "Such a mortal concern, comfort." _

_ "Reflet, what have I told you about being awake when Byleth and Sothis are sleeping?" _

_ "You presume to command me, mortal? How DARE you?" _

_ "Shut up Reflet, or I’ll suppress you again. Do not tempt me." _

The voice in her head grumbled. Reflet knew better than to think her threats simple bluffing. She could picture him, the young man mumbling profanities in some untouchable corner of her mind. 

She'd met him last year, in a dream, and the similarities between Byleth's description of her first meeting with Sothis were thought-provoking, to say the least. He looked familiar; not quite like her, though he could have been a relative. More a boy than a young man, really, seated on a throne in the shape of a dragon's skull. Eyes shaped like hers, but a sinister red, and skin perhaps a shade lighter, if that. Sleek hair crowned his head, the same snowy white as her own.

His face felt... _ familiar _ , somehow; a face she should have known.

She ran a hand through her own locks now, still surprised at how quickly her fingers fell away from the short waves. It had been an impulsive decision, perhaps, but she'd taken a knife to her long hair after one too many evenings spent picking burrs and leaves and whatever else from it. Byleth had said she looked nice and battle-ready. That with the messiness of the cut, they seemed even more like sisters.

Of course, she'd taken it upon herself to at least even out the worst bits of her own cut when she first had the chance, as well as Byleth's, who didn’t seem to mind either way.

Robin wandered around the edge of their camp once, then twice, eyes focused on the dark of the forest around them. This felt good, though perhaps that wasn’t the best word for it. Safe, almost. Patrolling. Making sure that no beasts or bandits strayed too near to them. Faerghus, as it turned out, had a bit of a bandit problem, on top of its other myriad issues.

_ "Foolish mortals, presuming themselves better than the beasts they are. How could there not be anything but endless problems, without a proper leader to destroy the enemies of his kingdom?" _

Robin sighed, though she thought it wiser, in this case, not to engage with Reflet. Sometimes, the half-mad ramblings he felt so comfortable spouting into her head sounded something like…sense. Robin shuddered. She didn't want to think about that; sleeping off the thought usually helped.

Still…at the rate this night was going, she really wouldn't be able to sleep, would she? 

In that case, it might be better to at least continue her studies.

Walking as quietly as she could to avoid disturbing her sister, Robin made her way to the fire. It had nearly died down, but with a bit of prodding she got it going again, just enough that she could read. Books were the one luxury she found herself indulging in, these days. This one was about Crests—nothing majorly informative, as she had quickly found out, but she imagined the sort of literature that could actually help her understand the concept would not come cheaply, and they had a mercenary company to think about. As it was, she only ever had a couple books with her at a time, trading them for others once she was finished.

Flicking the book open to where she'd been last, she started to read. Most books on the subject went into the history of the Ten Elites very briefly, with some references to the goddess and Saint Seiros and the Four Saints. In all honesty, the mythos surrounding the Church of Seiros rose some alarms in the back of her mind, though she couldn't say  _ exactly _ why.

Nor could she place why the history of the continent as a whole seemed a little… _ strange _ .

_ "Your suspicions are amusing, mortal. For a mere sack of flesh and bone, you are not entirely without intelligence…" _

She repressed the urge to sigh, squeezing her lips shut in case Byleth had successfully managed to fall back asleep.  _ "Once more, and I will not hesitate to suppress you for at least a week." _ He grumbled again at the repeated threat, too quietly for her to actually make out the words. She almost laughed. He'd tried to take over her body last year, shortly after Duscur. She'd beaten him down somehow, her fractured, yet still organized mind proving more than a match for the shambled ramblings and wild anger that seemed to be the entirety of him.

"Ro?"

"Ah, I'm sorry, is the fire too bright?" It was more likely that her argument with Reflet had bothered Sothis. "I can put it out." No sense in bringing that up though, if her sister didn't see any reason to do so.

Byleth shook her head, sitting up. "You're reading."

She smiled, looking down at the book in her hands. Yet another paragraph about the superiority of Crest-bearers, and how any noble house worth its nobility would need to ensure a Crest-bearing heir in order to continue their lineage. "I can stop." She certainly wouldn’t object to stopping. Seeing such abhorrent behaviours in person was bad enough, but having to read about it, too? Horrible.

Byleth stared at her with her usual blank expression, almost eerily still in the firelight. Robin watched her face. As always, her sister's every breath, every blink, every movement seemed perfectly calculated to ensure an unreadable visage. Measured, except that as far as she could tell Byleth didn't put too much thought into what her face did, and Robin could just barely pick out the slight curl of Byleth's lips. Not a smile, more a look as if she were puzzling over something. 

Byleth only did that when she was thinking. Or listening to Sothis. Realistically, it could have been either of those.

"Leth?"

"Hm?" Byleth looked…different. It took Robin a moment to place it, but there it was. The tiniest of furrows in Byleth's brow. She'd noticed it for the first time about a week ago, but had believed herself to simply be seeing things, at the time. "What? Is there something on my face?"

"Your brow is furrowed," she said. "You know, like how you always point out mine is when we're going over our funds."

Byleth pressed tentative fingers to her brow, the lines deepening just a little.  _ Cute _ . So much like a child, despite everything Robin knew her sister to be capable of. Byleth’s lips drew into a bit of a frown. Definitely cute, child-like despite how decidedly un-childlike she was in nearly every other respect. "Hm. Interesting."

"It is," Robin said, offering Byleth a jumping off point to talk about this development if she wanted.

"What are you reading about?" Not today, then.

"Crests," she said, "though the more I look into this particular book, the more I get the feeling that this is a propaganda piece rather than a text of any considerable academic value." She shrugged. "All knowledge is handy though, I suppose."

“If you say so, Sis.” Byleth shrugged as well. "I don't know all too much about it."

She figured that would be the case. Jeralt had told her that he himself had a Crest, the details of which he didn't divulge, but he'd mentioned the gaps in Byleth's education in enough detail that she could guess at what the younger woman did and didn't know. Unable to stop herself, Robin asked if her sister wanted to hear about what little she herself had been able to determine regarding Crests, but Byleth shook her head, a tired "not right now, Sis" falling from her lips. The younger woman needed more sleep. Robin closed the book, covering the fire until the glow of the flames fell dim under the ashes. 

“I think that will be enough for one night.”

"You're still reading."

"No, it can wait. If anything, it's not worth finishing. I'll just trade it for something else next time we're in town." She tossed the book back into one of her saddlebags before returning to her bedroll. "Sleep well, Leth."

"You too, Sis."

Robin tried, truly she did, but she couldn't get to sleep at all.

  
  


* * *

The next day saw them riding in the direction of the Faerghus-Sreng border again. It wouldn't be long now, but the snow dusting the grounds worried her a little. The Faerghan cold could be easily handled, but the snow? The sleet? That would slow them down considerably, no matter their skill or speed.

"There should be a village coming up soon," Byleth said, voice just as even as ever despite the sharp bite of the air. Robin couldn't trust herself to respond—she'd nearly fallen out of her saddle at least four times in just as many hours. "You should sleep once we get there."

"And leave you to your own devices?"

"Which would be a bad thing…why?"

_ "Because she has the emotional range of a rock. Even maggots have more humanity." _

"That's enough out of you," she muttered to herself, wrestling Reflet's consciousness into submission with her own. It was getting easier and easier to restrain him now; almost as if he were no longer trying to fight her off as strongly as he once did. She wondered at that—it wouldn't do for him to catch her unawares after all—but at least for the next few days she would have some quiet.

Byleth didn't seem to have that problem; if Sothis bothered her, it wasn't at the level that Reflet bothered Robin.

"Sis?

"Yes?"

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes. Reflet is just…taking a little break." She laughed, trying to clear the tension that settled in her temples. It was always like this whenever she first suppressed her mind's unwanted house guest. The pain would recede within a few hours, at most.

Not that that would stop Byleth from noticing her discomfort in exactly…now. Gods―oops,  _ Goddess _ —above, but that still managed to unsettle her even all these years later. "You look like you're about to fall off your horse."

"Concerned, little sister?" she teased, unable to resist. The Faerghan cold punished her for her cheekiness by reaching down her throat to squeeze her lungs. "Ugh." She envied Byleth's resilience; her sister had merely slid her arms into her strange cloak-like…garment…and now seemed perfectly fine.

Not seconds away from willfully setting her own clothes on fire for the warmth it would bring.

"You make it difficult for us not to be concerned about you, sometimes."

Robin almost wanted to ask if her sister meant "us" as in herself and their father, or "us" as in herself and Sothis, but she stopped the question before it could fall from her lips. It didn't really matter, either way. She knew her adoptive father loved her and was concerned for her safety to an extent that almost seemed to be more nervous than his concern for Byleth. Sothis, in her mysterious way, also seemed to care for Robin, though without a direct means of talking to each other she couldn't know for certain.

"You've almost fallen off your horse far too many times now. We're getting a room at that inn up ahead, and you are getting some proper sleep. No books. No planning or fretting about logistics.  _ Just _ sleeping."

How could she argue with that? Byleth was right, and the inn was so close. Sleep. Sleep would be nice. She would love some sleep. "Very well then, Leth. What will you be doing while I rest?"

"Guarding you. Perhaps, if the innkeeper is trustworthy, I may slip out at some point to restock our supplies. We're not going to be here too long, but perhaps if I'm lucky, I might also have some time to fish."

"Sometimes you can be remarkably like Father."

Byleth turned to her, a faint, half-shade of the beginnings of something almost like a smile on her face. Robin had to remind herself to sit up straight and keep a grip on the reins, her tired mind rolling with laughter at the description of her sister's expression. Nonsensical, foolish behaviour. Goddess, why was she so tired?

She didn't have time to figure it out. Taking a room at the inn and falling into one of the two thin, lumpy beds in it happened almost all at once. Byleth might have been saying something to her as she fell asleep, but she couldn't be sure. The dull thrum of nothing in her head felt pleasant. Almost peaceful.

She woke at what must have been some point the next afternoon, or so she assumed from the rumpled, not quite fixed state of Byleth's bed and the particular hue of the sunlight filtering through the room's thin curtains. Her sister had left money on the little bedside table in between their beds. She'd also written a note, the nonsense-free, straightforward lettering of Byleth's hand easily identifiable. "Eat something. Food's good here."

Rousing herself, Robin stood, forgoing her usual cloak for a less memorable one; plain black, hardly notable. She'd gained a reputation in the years she'd worked alongside her family. Whispers of the Ashen Demon now spread with tales of the Argent Wraith; hand-in-hand those stories went, with such startling levels of accuracy that it would have been odd were it not all so amusing.

Argent Wraith  _ indeed _ .

She laughed to herself as she took the stairs, two at a time for no reason other than that she could. Her hair was more white than silver, at any rate—not that the truth would matter much to most storytellers. She wondered if perhaps they were referring more to her pauldrons, or the flash of silver as Balmung and Mystletainn danced in her hands. Perhaps the next time she happened across the whispers, she would ask. Not that it mattered, really.

"Good morning, Miss!" She waved to the innkeeper, a jovial looking man she could vaguely, almost remember. "Good to see you're awake." He smiled kindly. Not a racist then, despite this town seeming smaller than most. Interesting.

"Thank you. I must have been far more tired than I thought. Might I have a meal, please?" She placed what she hoped to be enough on the counter as she sat. "I'd like something hot, if it's possible?"

"Of course, miss. House stew's good and filling, I'll add a loaf in. You must be hungry," he said, "Ah, and that's yours." He pushed almost half the coins back across the counter.

"Thank you," she said. She must still have been tired, not to have asked for price like an amateur. At least this man was of the honest sort. "Has my sister been out and about much? I hope she's not caused you any trouble." She knew such a thing would be unlikely, but Byleth could be offensive without meaning to. Mixing the particular brand of unbothered indifference she displayed with Faerghan honour and their strange ideas of polite behaviour…well, Robin trusted her sister, but even a village like this one had its insufferable characters.

"Sister, huh? Thought as much. She's very serious, but no, she's certainly not caused us any trouble," said the innkeeper, gesturing to a young woman Robin could only assume to be his daughter. "Isn't that right, my girl?"

"Yes, she's been quite kind," said the young woman, a dusting of pink rising across her honest, open face. "Anything to drink, miss?"

"Just water, thank you," she answered, finding it cute how the young woman's cheeks flushed just a little darker when Robin smiled her way. They'd come across many a shy, nervous young woman in their travels. Robin found it endearing, how clueless her sister was about the numerous admirers she'd garnered.

The young woman's hand shook only slightly as she tipped a pitcher of water over an empty cup. "Will that be all for you for now, miss?"

"Yes, thank you, ah… your name?" The innkeeper's daughter blushed even darker as she gave Robin her name, her smile an excited sort of nervous when Robin thanked her again. She looked as if she might say something, but stopped herself, offering a pretty curtsy before heading over to a lone patron seated in the corner of the inn. Robin caught his gaze as she watched. He looked like he might be tall if he stood. Young, red-haired. He seemed…out of place. She doubted he was a mercenary; the youth didn’t look to have seen much combat even with the large, half-healed scar carved across his face. 

"Ach," said the innkeeper, a good-humoured smile on his lips, "I'd be careful about looking too long over there, miss. Much as I don’t like to have any trouble here, I can’t turn away the coin”

“I understand...who is he?”

“Rumours say he's been disowned; son of one of the big lords up by the border. A margrave’s eldest, last I heard."

"Oh? Disowned…why?"

"There's another son. One with a Crest," said the innkeeper. “Only makes sense they’d keep the one and not the other. After all, how could a man without a Crest become a good lord?” He looked as if he might continue, but the young man with the scar must have had the feeling his plight was being spoken of, and the innkeeper stiffened. "My apologies, but I cannot say more, miss."

"I'm sorry," she said, though she noted he wasn't all too upset, "this is excellent, by the way. My thanks, truly." It was no empty praise, either; she'd eaten almost a third of the bowl without noticing. The innkeeper smiled and thanked her, allowing their conversation to meander off into nothing but companionate silence.  
With careful movements, she positioned herself so that she could watch the young man without giving off the appearance of doing so. He looked sad...no. Devastated. Adrift. And how could he not have felt that way, cast aside by his family for a lack of something he could not gain through work. How cruel…  
“Here, to cover his tab,” she said, the coins the innkeeper had returned to her making their way across the counter once more.

“Are you certain, Miss?”

“Yes, it’s fine,” she said. She chanced a glance up at the young man again, caught his eye; he nodded, something in his gaze proud, almost, though not proud enough to turn down her gift. Robin returned the nod, sadness welling in her heart for this youth she did not know. She turned back the innkeeper. “My thanks for the meal, kind sir, it was wonderful.”

Now, to find her sister.   
  


* * *

"Fishing."

"Hello Sis, did you sleep well?"

"Fishing?" 

Byleth turned, a soft expression on her face. Well, soft for Byleth's face, at any rate. "Yes. I had the time, as it turned out, and I thought it would be wise to try to relax before we head to the border."

"Stressed, are you? All those heartbroken lasses weighing heavy on your heart all of a sudden, little sister?"

Byleth gave her a blank stare, as expected, and Robin laughed, hand reaching out to mess up her sister's hair as she took a seat at Byleth's side. "Sis…what are you talking about?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing. Ignore me." She settled herself on the soft ground, the book she'd been struggling to read poking her through the pocket of her cloak. "I'm just going to finish this up. When did you want to leave?"

"Tonight, after dinner. I told the innkeeper I'd catch a lot, so it wouldn't do to just leave."

"Generous of you," she said. When Byleth only hummed in response, she laughed again. "Okay, alright, I'll be quiet. Wouldn't want to scare away all the fish."

"Thank you," Byleth said, voice blank as ever on the surface; Robin could just barely pick out the undercurrent of fond amusement that usually slipped into her sister's voice after enough of Robin's teasing and pestering.

She'd missed this, spending time just the two of them. Granted, in their line of work, such quiet moments were meant to be few and far between. She couldn't help but wish they were just the slightest bit more frequent.

Turning her attention to the book in her hands, Robin began to read. After finishing a particularly infuriating chapter, she struggled not to simply thro the stupid thing into the pond. It provided so little useful information that she almost felt she shouldn't have even bothered with it at all. Still, she soldiered on as Byleth reeled in a fish, a small, satisfied smile gracing her features.

  
  
  


Robin couldn't tell how long they'd been seated there together, but it may as well have been hours for how long it seemed to take her to get through one odious chapter after another. She was almost done, or so the dwindling pages would suggest, but it was almost too difficult to continue after each paragraph she read through.

"You're not interested in what you're reading. It's still the same one from back in the forest."

"Right," she answered, though her sister's tone hadn't exactly lent itself to her words being a question. "It just feels like…drivel. Biased, nonsensical propaganda, sprinkled with kernels of truth so small and difficult to pick out from the rest of the garbage that it almost isn’t worth it."

Byleth's brow furrowed just slightly, the way it sometimes did now; only when she was concerned over Robin. "Looks like you're nearly finished, at least," Byleth said, turning back to the pond. "There were plenty of stalls trading books in the square, if you wanted to swap that out before we leave. You've also got that other one you finished, right?"

She hummed as she finished up the last few sections, thankful she'd managed to get through it, if only for the sake of completing it. Nothing radically differently from the previous pro-Crest dogma she'd subjected herself to for the last hour and then some. "Good idea. I should also stretch my legs a little, I suppose."

Byleth nodded absently, absorbed in somehow coaxing yet another fish out of the water and into the basket beside her.

Travelling at night was not recommended in Faerghus, but such recommendations had always done little to deter Robin and Byleth. As they rode away from the village, Robin could have sworn she saw something approaching a smile on her sister's face. Byleth's usual mask of stoicism slipped into place almost as soon as Robin opened her mouth to comment. "To the border we ride!" she exclaimed instead, the sharp chill of the air less painful to gulp down than it had been only a few nights ago. "Do you think we'll run into any bandits tonight?"

Byleth shrugged. "It's entirely possible. And remember what they've been talking about in the village? There's a disgruntled ex-noble out there now too; rumour has it that he's amassing a force of his own."

"I can't really fault the lad though, can you? All because of something he can't change…"

Her sister's expression remained as calm as ever, betraying nothing, but there was the distinct feeling of something in the air. Confusion? Yes, confusion, but also a willingness to understand. To feel the same ire that Robin hadn't even realized was painting her own voice until now. “You sound as if you know more about him than I do.”

“I believe I saw him at the inn when I was taking my midday meal. He seems too young to be out here on his own, no family. And he looked like he’d been hurt badly.” The memory of the scar across the youth’s face hurt to recall. “I don’t know where the rumour of amassing a force of his own might have come about. He looked frightened.”

“Ah. That is...unfortunate?”

“Yes,” she sighed, “yes, it is.” But what could they do to change the time-honoured ways of a kingdom? Robin shook her head, a vain attempt to clear her thoughts. There would, perhaps, be time to think about this later. For now, there were other things to worry about.

“How much longer to the border?”

“Two days’ ride at least, weather permitting,” Byleth said, dropping their previous line of conversation without so much as a quirk of her brows. “Will you be alright to ride through the night, Sis?”

“I should be, yes.” She turned back toward the sleepy village one final time, her thoughts on the youth, on the countless others like him born into noble houses. Born to be replaced by another, luckier child should they have the misfortune of coming into the world without a Crest. Nearly overwhelmed with a sudden wave of disgust, Robin shook her head and turned away.

There would be time enough for these thoughts in the future; the unkindness of it all would not simply disappear overnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a) yes, I know the Holy Kingdom is not the only place where Crests are revered as much as they are but some of the best examples of how much it can affect a life come from the Blue Lions and their family so Let Me Have This.  
2) we're inching closer to Robin merging with the game timeline proper. It's coming. Soon. Ish.


	5. Prologue, Clear Skies, Garland Moon: The World Around Us

**Imperial Year 1178, Tenth of the Garland Moon**

It wasn't in Byleth to complain, but the fact that they had spent a year outside of Faerghus should not, at least in her mind, have meant that they now had to spend a year within its borders. Her father didn't seem to agree. Granted, there was plenty of work to be had here, which was good for the company, but being in Faerghus didn't feel quite right.

She couldn't explain what it was, only that it didn't feel... _ safe? _ Was that right?

_ "You have nothing to fear walking through the streets here," _ said Sothis, her warm, sleepy voice spreading through Byleth's head.  _ "I didn't think one such as you could feel fear." _

_ "I don't have anything to fear here, it's true,"  _ she said. It was no boast, either, simply a statement of fact. But was it? She looked toward Robin. Her sister sat poring over a book as their father worked on his lance nearby. Underneath the safety of her cloak, Robin looked so…young. So small.  _ "Sothis, I am not afraid." _

_ "Not for yourself. But perhaps for your sister? In fact, you needn't try to hide it from me. You feel fear for her, as much as you  _ can _ feel fear." _

As if unlocked by Sothis' words, the quivering she felt in her stomach increased. Yes, perhaps she was beginning to understand what it felt like to fear, though admittedly for someone else. She couldn't say for certain. Byleth didn't think she had reason to fear for her sister, who, in truth, was undoubtedly the more skilled of the two of them. The things Robin knew… It seemed as if every day she discovered yet another talent.

And yet...

Memories of the past year sprung unbidden into her mind. Things she'd seen and watched her sister experience. The things that happened all without Robin ever telling her they had.

Her sister, eyes forward, walking past pale, prim, proud women as they whispered and stared. 

Her sister, head held high in the streets as fair-skinned townsfolk spat at her feet. 

Her sister, the hood of her cloak tugged down by crude men with lustful eyes and greedy hands, comments Byleth knew to be insulting and lewd spilling from their mouths before the flash of Balmung and Mystletainn at Robin's hips warned them away. 

Yes, she had learned emotion in the last few years, had learned to fear not for herself, but for Robin. To think that such a feeling could exist, that she would  _ have _ to learn it and be unable to help, unable to do something to stop the circumstances from which it so often sprung... Byleth had never felt less than competent, but in matters such as these she knew nothing, could do  _ nothing _ .

And Robin bore it all with a smile that never quite reached her eyes, and a laugh that sounded nothing like the ones Byleth had so liked to hear in the year before the Tragedy. All without telling anyone of her troubles. Shouldering such a burden all alone, as if it were nothing; as if she'd taken on all this and more before.

_ "Perhaps she has." _

Even still, Byleth couldn't understand it, couldn't wrap her head around it at all. Not even Sothis would help, though it felt as if she knew something. Certainly, that little "perhaps" made it feel as if she knew  _ something _ .

"Leth?"

She blinked and her sister was there, standing in front of her, a finger pressed to the centre of her brow. The furrow that she still couldn't bring herself to be used to. "Hm?"

"Do you want anything from the market?"

"No, but...ah, shouldn't I come with you?"

"There's no need, you seemed to be focused very seriously on something," Robin said, the barest traces of a smile on her lips. "Father, did you want anything?"

"No Robbi, I'm fine," said their father, still working on his spear. Nothing could pull him away from it when he got started; understandable given how much their lives depended on their weapons. "I would appreciate it if you took your sister with you, though." The edge in his voice brooked no argument.

Robin sighed, though Byleth could tell it was more for their benefit than anything else. She hadn't truly grown accustomed to Fhirdiad, after all. Byleth couldn't blame her for that. Though they had all agreed on the story of an Almyran mother when pressed about Robin's appearance, such claims still did little to dissuade the more openly xenophobic of Fhirdiad's population, of which there remained all too great a number. Even despite the crown prince's aide being a man of Duscur, tensions in the capitol ran high at the sight of skin any darker than parchment or the occasional slight suntan.

That her sister was beautiful didn't help so much as make all the whispering worse.

Byleth had received her share of questioning glances when travelling about with her sister, but the memory of all she had watched Robin endure stung far worse than any curious looks she could remember. She didn't like the thought of Robin going anywhere alone. Not even the market, or the shops near their home. "I don't mind coming along, Sis."

"I know you don't," Robin said. After a moment, she added, "But you shouldn't have to," and something in her voice broke there. Resignation, some sort of...disappointment that pushed past the boundaries of her sister's pride, her need to prove that she could handle things on her own. "Come along then, we'd best go now."

Now, before it was socially acceptable for men to be prowling about the streets half-drunk and in search of a woman to victimize. Before it became dark enough for Faerghan citizens to "trip" and "stumble" into others, their blades coming away black with foreign blood that the guards did not mind seeing spilled. Not that Robin lacked the ability to protect herself, as Sothis chimed in the back of Byleth’s head, but it wouldn't do to tempt fate in a city that would not side with her in the case of something going awry. Byleth chafed at the implication as Sothis hummed. She had learned some anger, too, since settling in Fhirdiad.

"If you're not back in an hour, I'll come to get you," Jeralt said. "Stick to the usual shops." Byleth watched her sister's lower lip tremble slightly, so different from the fearless woman she'd been—the woman she was. Living in Fhirdiad had begun to break her, piece by piece. They needed to leave this city soon, but how could they when their jobs all came from the nobles within? It would be foolish to leave now, something that Robin herself had pointed out. "Don't look at me that way Robbi, I know you can handle yourself. I just..."

"I know," said her sister after a moment. Her features rearranged themselves into a calmer expression, and once again she was the Robin to whom Byleth looked for guidance, for wisdom, for examples of all the ways she could improve herself. Laughing gently, Robin pressed a kiss to their father's hair. "You worry far too much, old man."

"Someone has to look out for you two troublemakers," he said, laughing too, though the sounds felt hollow even to Byleth's ears.

She couldn't watch this anymore. Staying in one place for so long, and a place so cold and cruel as this...it wasn’t good for any of them.

_ "And how will you convince the rest of your company to leave here, hm? There is stability, there is money, there is food and shelter. So long as the Kingdom remains in its current troubled state, there will be work." _

_ "But Robin..." _

_ "Yes, I know. Your family is most important, is it not?" _

There was a wistfulness in the words that would have startled Byleth, had she been one to startle.  _ "You sounded sad just then."  _

_ "Hm. Perhaps I did."  _ With that, Sothis fell silent.

Just ahead of her, Robin pushed open the door to their small, rented home, beckoning her to follow. Their father’s eyes tracked their movements, the concern laid bare against his eldest daughter’s back. Byleth took her sister's hand as they walked out into the cold.

* * *

  
  


"One of those loaves, please," said Robin, pointing out her choice to the baker. He smiled thinly and held out a flour-covered palm. Byleth watched as her sister's hand drifted to her side, where Balmung rested, before it switched route and dug into the coin purse she carried.

None of the patrons the baker had served prior had been made to pay before being handed their bread. She drew herself up to her proper height, shifting slightly so that her arm came between her sister and the baker. Robin reached past her to hand the man the coins, a thin smile of her own on her lips.

"Please, Leth, don't," said her sister, too quietly for anyone else to hear. Byleth nodded, gritting her teeth despite herself. She'd never been troubled by her lack of emotional response as a child, but this pushed the limits of her placid nature. She should have been able to lash out, should have been able to tell the man off for treating her sister like this.

That was the normal reaction, wasn’t it?

"Here," said the baker. There was nothing strictly wrong with the loaf he handed to them, though it looked to be the oldest and darkest of the ones Robin had pointed out. "Now get out."

Robin looked as if she might say something, the pride in her eyes flickering. Then, with a small nod, she took the bread and walked out of the shop. The baker smiled another smug, thin smile.  _ Cruel _ .

Byleth would have killed him right then and there, and never mind the illegality of it, except that it would be a waste of effort, and her family would certainly not approve. Instead she glared at him until he looked up, forced him to meet her gaze. She kept her eyes on his until she could see the sweat dripping from his temples. "Be thankful my sister is kind, sir. The next time you think to treat her so poorly, I most certainly won't be."

She thought he might have bowed a little, too frightened to so much as make more than a scared whimpering sound even in front of the rest of his patrons. Byleth didn't much care. She'd kept her sister waiting long enough. Robin, of course, knew exactly what she'd stayed behind to do.

All these years later and she still couldn’t hide anything from her sister.

"You know, you needn't warn off every shopkeeper who thinks to treat me ill, little sister." Robin sighed. "It's my fault for coming here instead of going to the usual shop, like Father wanted."

Pressure built in her throat, almost as if she might scream, but she knew she would do no such thing. From the look in her eyes, Robin knew it too. "You don't even  _ try _ to stand up for yourself."

"Remember where we are, Leth. Standing up for oneself is almost always preferable, yes, but  _ not _ when it could cost us the ease of life we have found here." Robin shook her head. "Until Father and the company decide that our time is best spent outside of Fhirdiad, I would prefer that we do not appear to be harassing the merchants here."

"You would prefer that they treat you with such disdain? Such…disrespect?" She couldn't understand it. Her sister did not deserve such treatment. How  _ could _ she allow it?

Robin's eyes met hers, filled with something Byleth couldn't quite understand. Something warm, but sad, aimed at her. Meant for her. "You needn't trouble yourself with that, little sister. Let's just finish this so that we can get back to Father."

She'd avoided saying "go home", and Byleth realized that this much, at least, she could understand. The small house they shared with their father could never be home. Not for Robin, for whom the past year must have been agony, no matter how brave a face she wore. "Alright," she said, nodding, something almost like disappointment mingling with the fear in her belly. "Alright."

  
  
  


She knew that her sister could take care of herself, knew it for a truth so inescapable that not even Sothis could deny its veracity, and yet still, she felt that fear throughout the rest of the day.

* * *

  
  


"Your sister can handle herself, kid," said her father when next she thought to bring it up. Robin wasn't with them, having opted to assist in a job outside the city. "You've seen her take down whole groups of bandits and giant beasts by herself, seen her negotiate with the best of them. And her magic, her  _ mind... _ you know what she's capable of."

"I do, and so do you, and that doesn't stop  _ you _ from looking nothing short of terrified every time she walks out the door without one of us to go with her." She shook her head. “Even I can see it, Dad. You can’t pretend it doesn’t bother you.”

She paused, watching the effect her words had on her face. While she may not have understood most people, Byleth knew her family—knew them better than she knew herself. "We can't keep on doing this, Dad you know as well as I do."

"You're right, kid, but what would we tell the others? This isn't just about our family."

She knew. He knew that she did. Still, Byleth couldn't help but turn her thoughts back to a night years ago, in the cold forest just northeast of the city in which they now lived. Her father had told them that he did everything with their safety in mind. That no matter what, they came first, before everything. Couldn't he see that Robin wasn't safe here? All it would take would be one mistake, one angry, hateful person too many...

_ "You are free to bring up his words with him, but do you truly believe that  _ now _ would be the best time?" _

_ "What do you mean?" _

_ "Your father cares for you and your sister more than anything else in this world, yes, but he has responsibilities toward the others in your company."  _ She knew that, of course she knew that. _ "Now is not the time to remind him of words uttered out of fear as much as love." _

_ "...very well. I'll trust your judgement." _

Sothis hummed with pleasure,  _ "I'm glad you're listening to me. There's hope for you yet."  _ With that, the wise little girl’s voice dissipated from her thoughts, and Byleth was left staring at her father, unsure of what to say now that she could not—would not—bring up the words he had spoken to them so many years ago.

"I won't let anything happen to my big sister, Dad."

He looked up at her, almost as if he knew that those were not the words she'd meant to say. "I know you won't, kid."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


"Does Dad know what you have to put up with all the time?"

"Good morning to you too, little sister."

Byleth knew what this was, this blatant evasion of the question. Such a tactic would have worked on anybody else, but not Byleth. Robin must have known that. "You know I won't just leave this alone. Does he know?"

"Of  _ course _ he doesn't," Robin said after a moment, the sigh in her voice one of relief. Relief at being able to share the truth, maybe?

"Why haven't you said anything?"

"He's been...stressed. Extremely so, ever since we settled here. Living in one place for so long doesn't suit him." She shook her head. "I worry about him, Leth. He's pushing himself so  _ hard _ , and the rest of the company doesn't seem to notice."

"They might be loyal, but they're mercenaries all the same. Just like us," she said. "Though they are our companions, though we trust them with our lives, they're not necessarily going to put our needs above theirs."

"Not all of them are like that, though," Robin said, the slight pout of her lips making her look younger than the twenty-some years everyone assumed her to possess. "Some of them would put down their very lives for Father, for you and I too."

"Rarities in this line of work," she replied, though she couldn't deny that her sister did have a point. Some of their men were loyal to a point that she would have been curious about, had she cared to look into such things.

Robin reached out a hand to her, clasping her shoulder tightly. "Enough of this, Leth, please. Please leave this be."

Byleth wanted to say no, wanted to tell her that she wouldn't do such a thing. But how could she? Her sister rarely asked her for anything. Rarely went against anything Byleth said or did, even if she did insist on ridiculing her sometimes. She nodded, acquiescing where she normally would have at least tried to argue the point.

Instead, she turned her attention to the window. Their father was out, hunting beasts for a minor lord somewhere in the nearby forest. He'd asked her to keep her sister safe, and by safe, he'd meant for Byleth to keep her at home. Robin may not have told him everything, but their father wasn't stupid; he must have noticed something. There was something in the air too, something...unsettling.

Byleth knew that Robin had heard the request, that she wouldn't go anywhere if their father had specifically wanted her not to. That didn't make this any easier; she…didn't like having to be her sister's jailer. Byleth watched the world move outside and wondered why she didn't feel restless, though, why she didn't care to go out and walk amongst other people.

_ "Because you are afraid," _ said Sothis, her voice piqued with something that Byleth couldn't quite recognize.  _ "Though admittedly, in this case I do believe it is warranted. Your father's departure is noted amongst most of the city; there might be those...emboldened by his absence." _

She doubted it, or at least, wanted to doubt it, but Sothis had a point. Part of her must have known. Their father was coming home soon though, any day now, so it would all be fine. Wouldn't it?

"Are you hungry, Leth?" Robin asked, her voice soft. "I can start a fire, prepare something for you. What would you like?"

"No, Sis, I'm okay. Are you hungry?"

"Not really," her sister replied. The sadness in her voice felt sharper than it usually did. Again, Byleth couldn't help but wish they could just leave, leave Fhirdiad and not come back for a long, long time.

She turned back to the window. Her sister, from the sound of rustling pages, had turned back to her book. The sat together in silence, the distance between her seat at the window and Robin's at the hearth only a mere handful of strides apart, yet equal to the expanse of an ocean. Silence hung in the air, choking her, suffocating her. She knew it wasn't, but still the feeling persisted. She needed her sister to speak, to say something.

_ Anything _ .

"What are you reading about?" she asked, her face still aimed at the view just beyond her window.

The rustling of pages slowed. Stopped. Robin's voice fell on her ears, that same sadness etched into the lines of her words. "I'm reading about Enbarr. It's nothing too informative but...I do miss it."

They'd not spent more than a few nights in the Imperial capital, shortly after the Tragedy and their father's subsequent decision to temporarily ban Robin from Faerghus, but it had been nice. They'd been able to walk about freely, and had even used some of the money he’d given them to see a show at the Mittelfrank Opera House.

Robin had been so full of life then, her wit and her vivacity competition for even the brightest stars they saw that night.

Byleth wanted that back, wanted her sister back. More than anything, she wanted Robin to be what she should have been, instead of the sad, defeated woman she seemed to be.

_ "I dare say that boor in her head certainly isn't helping the matter, either."  _

_ "How do you know him?" _

Sothis didn't deign to provide her with an answer to that question; Byleth would have bristled at that if she hadn't known what to expect. After all, the tiny being living in her head had made it very clear that, in addition to having a right to some secrets, she didn't quite know who or what she was. It couldn't be hiding something if she wasn't sure of what that something was.

"Leth?"

"Hm?"

"Leth, you need to stop worrying yourself about this. I'm fine."

She hated to sound so petulant, but she couldn't help it. "You could have fooled me."

Robin rose from her seat, joining Byleth on the bench by the window. She placed a hand on Byleth's head, stroking her hair. Comfort that Byleth didn't need. She should have been the one comforting her sister, if anything. "It's okay, Leth. I'm  _ fine _ ."

She wasn't going to win this, she could tell. Robin wouldn't budge, wouldn't admit that there was really something wrong. The world around them could burn away into nothingness, and her sister still wouldn't admit that she hated it here, that she hated every second they spent in Fhirdiad. Something filled Byleth's chest at that, some feeling for which she didn't have a name.

Footsteps in the streets stopped her from thinking any further on that.

They'd heard about the rebellion in the west, heard about how Prince Dimitri had distinguished himself while putting the uprising down. Things were shifting quickly now, the politics of the city changing at a pace that left them all uneasy. Byleth couldn't say she knew too much, herself, but her sister kept their family apprised of the major changes. There were talks of new policies. Stricter laws. The Royal School of Sorcery had lost a few students from the Empire and the Alliance both, as a consequence of these shifts in policy.

The sound of hammering on the door nearly roused her to her feet, but Byleth rolled away from the window on instinct, Robin following suit in perfect silence. Nobody called out to them throughout the hammering, so it didn't seem as if the people outside knew who lived in their little house. By the time she'd counted to one hundred in her head, the pounding had ceased, and the sound of footsteps walking away from their door set Byleth at ease.

"Those were knights. It's probably a notice," said Robin. Byleth trusted her word; her sister was rarely wrong about this sort of thing. "I'll get it. It should be okay to sit by the window again."

She nodded, but didn't return to the window, instead retiring to her chair by the hearth. Robin slipped outside, then back into the house. "What is it?"

Robin joined her, settling back into her chair before taking a careful look at the paper in her hand. "Enforced curfew starting tonight; non-citizens are to return to their homes before eight in the evening every night unless required by business to stay out later; citizens are to return before eleven. Penalties if found outside during curfew hours, which are from the above-listed until six the next morning unless required by business."

"Those changes you were talking about?"

"It would seem so. I can't say I'm surprised by the decision to implement a curfew, though this could prove...troubling." Robin’s eyes continued to scan the paper, and her frown deepened. There was something more there, something she wasn’t telling Byleth.

She almost asked why, but held herself back. She couldn't place the feeling that told her to hold her tongue. All Byleth knew was that she didn't want to ask her sister what troubled her. She didn't want to seem as if she didn't already know.

Byleth watched Robin's face as she read over the notice again, noting how her sister's brow furrowed deeper and deeper with each back-and-forth of her eyes. Her lips, usually drawn into a smile of some sort, pressed together in a line. Her hands trembled just slightly as she read, as if the paper in her hands weighed heavy.

_ "She's worried...though perhaps that isn’t a strong enough word, in truth." _

Sothis would have taken it for rudeness if she'd answered with anything other than a nod, or at least, the mental equivalent of it. She didn't speak again after making her observation, though, leaving Byleth to watch her sister in silence. She'd never much minded silence until gaining a sister. Now, it...well, she didn't quite know if it was the silence itself that frightened her, or the look in Robin's eyes.

"Sis?"

"It's fine," Robin said, too sharply for her words to be the truth. "We'll just have to be sure to adhere to the curfew, alright? They'll be enforcing this starting this evening, so if you do decide to go somewhere, please be sure to come home on time." The look in her eyes, what was it? Why did it make Byleth feel this way?

“Okay, Sis.”

"I'm just going to lie down for a little, Leth. As soon as I've had a little rest, I'll see to starting up a nice stew for dinner. That sound okay?"

"Yes," she said. What else could she say? Her sister stood, angling toward their room, then turned and walked over to Byleth, just to place a kiss on her forehead. "Love you, Sis," Byleth said, meaning the words as much as she could without knowing what they should have felt like.

"I know you do, little sister, and I love you," Robin replied, her own words imbued with something that Byleth couldn't quite understand. Was that what love should have been? What love  _ was _ ? Byleth couldn't say for sure, though as she watched her sister head into their room, her lips still set in that grim, sombre line, she knew that she did love Robin. She loved her sister so much, that when the first sobs came she rose and left to sit outside, on the bench they'd placed by their front door, granting Robin the privacy that their small space simply could not afford her on its own.

Byleth watched the world around them move by, citizens complaining of the curfew but not really affected, not really caring about what it would do to their lives. Non-citizens—a fancier way of saying foreigners—were the ones being targeted here. People who obviously didn't belong. People like her. 

Like her sister.

She would speak to their father as soon as he got home; for Robin's sake, they couldn't stay here. The company would have to understand, though she couldn't really see them objecting. They wouldn't like the curfew either.

It wasn't in Byleth to complain, but Robin wouldn't, and so she would take it upon herself to protect her sister from the world that sought to cause her harm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter before Robin joins the story proper! Not sure if I'll be able to get that chapter out anytime soon what with NaNo starting, however, we shall see.


	6. Prologue, Clear Skies, Lone Moon: History Unfolding

**Imperial Year 1179, Thirty-first of the Lone Moon**

The commotion in the streets should have been a more frightening thing, perhaps, but Robin simply allowed herself to ease into the crush and swell of people. Derdriu had never been so busy before—at least, not whenever she'd come to it—but then again, this was no ordinary day. At her side, Byleth kept a hand edging ever-so-slightly toward the hilt of her sword. "Relax, little sister," Robin chided, pulling Byleth by the hand as she picked a path through the crowd.

"What's so important that you insisted on being in the city at all today, Sis?"

"Shh, no questions Leth, just let history unfold around you."

"History?"

Robin laughed and squeezed her sister's hand, winning a few kind smiles from some people in the crowd. Others ignored her, some frowned, but she'd had time enough to adjust to slights like that. Nothing could ever be as bad as Fhirdiad. She shuddered at the memories, turning a smile back toward her sister when Byleth's hand tightened around hers. "I think I see a good vantage point. Almost there, Leth!"

"You don't need to talk to me like I'm a kid, Sis," Byleth said. With a bit more fire in her bland tone, it would have been an admonishment…well, almost. The small, nearly non-existent tilt of her lips meant it was all in good humour, of course, and Robin beamed as the crowd began to thin, if only marginally. She didn't quite trust that things wouldn't start early, after all, and this wouldn't last very long, if the whispers were anything to go by. Some people didn’t seem nearly half as excited as she did, hemming and hawing, though she could catch the hints of smiles even on these faces. It seemed strange to her that they should have come at all.

Today, they would be in the crowd while an heir to House Riegan was finally named, and any citizen of the alliance should have been glad of the opportunity to bear witness.

Byleth, of course, didn't care. They owed no allegiance to the Leicester Alliance, and even if she had spent much of her youth there, according to Jeralt, she didn’t seem to care much for the nations of the continent in general. She had only really come to act as a sort of bodyguard for Robin. No matter how much she said otherwise, Robin knew that was the only reason she’d managed to convince her sister to join her. 

She wasn’t blind, she knew her family had been keeping an eye on her ever since they’d left the kingdom. The year they'd spent in Fhirdiad had hurt her far more than she could ever have wanted to admit, but Byleth, even despite the marked slowness of her ability to develop emotional knowledge, had seen through her. When she'd told their father...well, Robin didn't like to think of that night. It had been one of the hardest conversations their family had ever had to have.

They'd lost friends over leaving, too, a sizable part of their father's mercenary band. Though they had been quick to find replacements, some of the things the others had said still stung. Robin sighed, forcing herself not to dwell on such glum remembrances. It wouldn't do to be upset today, not when the general air of everybody around her seemed so joyous. Well, everybody but her little sister, but that was par for the course.

Besides, Byleth wasn't  _ miserable _ , only unmoved, as she usually was. 

_ "Don't you find it odd though? Such a bizarre creature. For all that you worms wax poetical about the strength of emotions and sentiment, of love... _ ugh _ ...well, that woman you call kin is a strange beast. Are you sure she's the same kind of maggot you are?" _

_ "You never do let me have a moment of peace, do you, Reflet?" _

_ "That is not my name, cur!" _

_ "Yet you answer to it easily enough." _ She cleared her throat even though she hadn't been using her voice to speak with him; he'd become more whiny than menacing, though truly she didn't think she'd ever been afraid of all his blustery rage. It was, as she imagined, akin to having a very annoying little brother—or perhaps, to be fair, a distant, equally as annoying younger cousin—blathering on and on in her ear.  _ "Now hush, you, this is a momentous occasion and I won't have you spoiling it." _

He grumbled a bit more, half-hearted really. She wondered about that; it seemed he'd been tired, lately. Too tired to argue with her for more than a round or two. Something to look into later today, perhaps. For now, there was someone else to focus on. Someone far more important.

Once she felt they were in the best possible spot, she tugged her sister to a stop. As usual, Byleth didn't so much as flinch despite the less-than-gentle treatment. If anything, she almost looked amused. _ "Or what passes for amused on such a bland face." _

_ "Oh, shut up would you?" _

_ "Don't you dare suppress me again, flesh-sack!" _

She very nearly laughed at the notes of panic in his voice, and would have most likely done exactly that had the drums and trumpets of a grand procession not distracted her. The announcement would soon be made. History would soon unfold. "Can you see, Leth?"

"Yes," said her sister, completely uninterested in the progress of the procession. Instead, Byleth’s eyes carved through the crowd, noting who had weapons and what kind they were; evaluating every possible threat. She had known this would be the case, of course, though some part of her had hoped such an historic unfolding would garner some sort of reaction from her sister. Anything at all would have been nice. Even a sigh of boredom—though that would probably be asking for far too much.

Perhaps Byleth sensed her disappointment, tossing Robin a bone in the form of an almost—but not quite—lazy, "So why is this so…important?"

"As you already know…actually, never mind. I'm pretty sure Father never did teach you about the world, did he? Aside from which routes to take or ah, you know what I mean." She clears her throat, eyes trailing the procession for a moment before turning to her sister. "It’s a political thing. Duke Riegan's son and heir was killed a few years ago, and his only other child hasn't been seen in Alliance territory in almost twenty years."

"So who…?"

"Technically the reign of House Riegan should have ended with Duke Riegan, and another house, presumably House Ordelia or House Gloucester, would have taken up the mantle," Robin continued, despite knowing this wasn't her sister's area of expertise, nor interest. She spoke quickly and quietly, lest supporters of either house should be nearby and use her innocent explanations as a means of starting something. "Luckily for supporters of House Riegan, Duke Riegan's grandson, Claude, has been determined worthy of being heir to the sovereign duchy of the Leicester Alliance. Today, Claude will address the people of Derdriu as the future Duke Riegan."

Byleth nodded once, then twice, then carried on with her assessment of the crowd. Robin left her to it, knowing it had been a kindness of her sister’s just to listen. Besides, despite her lack of reaction, Byleth had listened carefully, as Robin knew she always did.

She had a particular interest in the Riegan heir, one that she wouldn't bother her sister with just yet. The boy was an outsider to his people; half-Almyran, son of the king of Almyra. Robin hadn't come across that news lightly, the scar she'd won that night crossed against an older scar along her thigh. It didn't hamper her movement, thankfully, but looking at it sometimes, in the bath, she wondered if it had been worth it. If any of what she'd been doing over the last few years had been worth it.

She burned to tell her sister all the things she had learned, but somehow, she knew it would be wiser to remain silent. Secrets and spywork seemed…natural to her. Not to Byleth, though she suspected a few things about her sister that even Byleth didn't know. For whatever reason, Robin understood secrets. Understood the need for dark dealings, for information won in shadows and splashes of blood and bone. Robin couldn't tell for sure why or how she knew, but she knew that there would be a need for this. She'd known ever since those first few weeks in Fódlan; something was very,  _ very _ wrong here.

She would protect Byleth from it, if she could, and help her to fight it, if it ever came to that.

_ "Distracted yourself, got lost in your tangents again…" _

_ "What, no derogatory name for me? You're losing your edge, Reflet." _

Reflet scoffed, or perhaps he snorted—she really couldn't tell sometimes—and the words rolling around in her mind felt laced with something. An acerbic humour, if she had to try to choose a few words for it.  _ "Hm. The boy looks like a schemer. _ "

She turned toward the dais in the square, surprised to find herself agreeing with Reflet. Byleth's attention had been lost completely, if it had ever been piqued to begin with, so Robin left her sister to her own devices and studied the Riegan heir. A handsome boy, very charming, and very much the scheming type. Something about his smile unsettled her. It didn't meet his eyes. Even from the distance, she could tell he wasn't truly comfortable. 

He may have loved his people, and she believed he truly did, but he didn't trust them. He'd been hurt. And the people in the square weren’t the only ones he considered his people, no, not by a long shot.

An outsider, indeed.

As if he felt her gaze, he looked up, deep green eyes scanning the crowd until somehow, they found hers. She watched him watching her, unsure what he thought of her, just another stranger staring at him. Studying him. In the end, he nodded and smiled. Something sharper than his boyish grin. More dangerous; much more dangerous. Robin smiled back, and though she had nothing against the boy, she felt a thrum of pleasure travel up her spine when he shivered, albeit almost imperceptibly.

Claude von Riegan would have to learn that, dangerous as he may have thought himself, there were others far more capable.

Of course, Robin doubted that he meant to be truly  _ dangerous _ . If anything, he seemed the kind of person who would always try to choose the best possible outcome for the greatest good. A dangerous sentiment, in its own right. Still, he warranted watching, this boy. She couldn’t quite place why, but there was something about him.

"Do we have to stay much longer?"

She considered Claude, standing in a casual posture beside the stooped, but still proud Duke Riegan. "No, no. I think I've seen what I needed to see."

"Great. Dad wants us to meet him in Enbarr as soon as possible. We're going to be late as it is, you know," said Byleth, and again it was almost laced with a petulance that felt younger than she presumably was. Most people wouldn't have thought anything of her sister's tone of voice, though Robin could pinpoint the beginnings of a very mild irritation.

She laughed anyway, ruffling her sister's hair if only because she knew it wouldn't really bother Byleth at all. "You and I both know we're most likely going to get there first. I predict at least a few hours of exploring Enbarr, just you and I."

Byleth offered her a small smile, and she nearly whooped for joy to see it. It had been difficult to pull even the smallest emotions from her sister these days. As if the younger woman were having a harder and harder time accessing the feelings that Robin had begun to see her show. She couldn't explain it, but it also seemed as if Sothis was strangely quiet, then constantly in her sister's head, then absolutely silent once again. She couldn't really be sure, as Byleth didn't always mention when she had spoken with the little girl living in her mind.

_ “Best not to think too hard about it.”  _ She nodded absently, surprised at herself that she should agree. Reflet did have a point though; musing over her sister’s emotional ability would get her nowhere. That was something that Byleth would have to work out for herself.

The prospect of spending some time in Enbarr pleased her greatly, at the very least.

Enbarr was perhaps one of her favourite large cities, though Robin couldn't explain why. Something about the energy of the streets appealed to her, even if sentiment regarding Crests and a person's value were nearly identical to the views they'd been exposed to in Faerghus. The issue remained, of course, at the heart of Fódlan as a whole, and yet…

Well, suffice it to say, she'd heard a fair bit about the crown princess, Edelgard. Shame her own status as a crestless foreigner barred her from meeting the heir to the Adrestian Empire save for a lucky quirk of fate. Robin wouldn't hold her breath for such an opportunity, but it did seem rather a waste considering she’d at least seen the Faerghan prince and the heir to the alliance in person, albeit from considerable distances away.

"Ro?"

"Sorry, I'm a little out of it, I suppose. Shall we?"

_ "The road to Enbarr is long. Distraction may prove the death of you, flesh-sack." _

She ignored him this time, taking her sister's hand as they wound their way around revellers and dissenters alike. There would be a time for her, later, to mull over Duke Riegan's decision. To comb through all the implications of naming his newly surfaced grandson as his heir. She cast one last look toward the dais, where she could just barely make out Claude von Riegan's charming, misleading grin. Exciting stuff, really, even if only to her.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


"Enbarr, at last!"

Byleth offered her one of her rare little smiles. "When were we last here, sister? It has been some years, yes?"

"Before Fhirdiad," she said, and as always, remembering their time there sent shivers along her sides. "It was only the two of us last time, too."

Byleth's expression didn't shift, though she did grab Robin's hand as they handed their horses off to a stableboy. The inn their father expected to meet them at wasn't too fancy, though it did give off a respectable, nearly distinguished air. "Seems like Dad isn't here yet."

Right. No sign of Hidalgo. "So what do you say we do then, little sister?"

"We could take a walk, refamiliarize ourselves with the city," Byleth said, pragmatic as ever. "It wouldn't do to rush, so we can leave a note for Dad with the innkeeper."

Sensible as ever, too. She penned the note herself, along with a few personal requests; nothing that would really interest her sister, perhaps, but Robin had been diligent in her research ever since the beginning of her life as part of the Eisner family. She wouldn't be stopping any time soon, even if some of the rhetoric left her, quite frankly, sick to her stomach. For whatever reason, she didn’t  _ want _ her sister to know, either. 

"Where do you think we should go first?" she asked, ignoring the strangely pleased mutterings of the man-boy-being in her head. She loved Enbarr, for the most part, but Reflet's partiality toward it did give her some cause for concern. The creature was a lunatic, in truth, and she didn't want to know why he seemed so happy to be here now.

“Perhaps surveying the surrounding area first would be wise?”

“Sensible as always, that’s my little sister,” she said, laughing at the barest trace of a playful scowl on her sister’s lips. “Oh, come now Leth, I’ll not tease if it bothers you so.”

Byleth shook her head. “No, it’s fine. You wouldn’t be my annoying big sister if you didn’t tease.”

She smiled, offering Byleth her arm as they walked off. Enbarr hadn’t changed much since last they’d seen it. The streets remained as lively as ever, with stalls lining almost every inch of free space. They were close to the Mittelfrank Opera House, if Robin remembered correctly.

Perhaps there would be time for them to see a performance, their father’s plans permitting. They weren’t so travel-worn as to be turned away, though perhaps it might be well to convince Byleth to take a comb to her hair. It certainly couldn’t hurt. And it had been a while since the last time her little sister had let her brush her hair for her; Byleth wouldn’t have ever bothered to do it properly, herself. 

_ “Your sentimentality sickens me.” _

She didn’t so much as think to acknowledge him. “That alleyway looks tight. Seems to lead out to the street over.”

Byleth nodded. “This part of the city should be fairly well-lit at night.” She looked up, eyes scanning the rooftops. “This close to the castle, we’re more likely to be met by nobles and their goons than the average thug.”

A good assessment. They went back and forth trading observations as they ventured through the city. She bought Byleth a sweet bun, smiling at the faint traces of delight in her sister’s eyes. At one of the many vendor’s stalls vying for attention in the nearby market square, Byleth bought her a book on the history of the Adrestian Empire.

“You don’t want to read it first, Leth?”

The small half-sigh her sister let out served as a laugh—or perhaps a sound of joking derision. “I’ll leave that to you, Sis.” Byleth offered up a ghost of a smile, her way of making the joke clear.

The fondness she always felt for her sister expanded, enveloping her chest in warmth. What would happen if they were to ever be separated? She would sooner die than allow such a thing to occur, of course, but it did remain a possibility, and sadly they weren’t rela—”Ro! There you are!”

“Father!” she called out, plastering a smile onto her face that Byleth would undoubtedly notice as fake. Robin would worry about that later, though. Jeralt swept the pair of them into a brief bear hug, setting them down with a gruff clearing of his throat as he remembered where they were. The big softie.

“Hi, Dad,” said Byleth, mild as ever save for the tiniest of crinkles around her eyes. “You got our note?”

“Yeah, of course. Probably could have guessed you two’d be able to fill your time wisely.” He looked at Robin and nodded. “I need to talk to your sister about a few things. You alright to do a bit more surveillance, Ro?”

Good, dependable Father. “Yes, of course. Meet you at the inn then, yes?” Byleth nodded, her eyes lit by a dim, quiet curiosity. Sothis must still have been sleeping. Or perhaps just trying to avoid any accidental meetings with Reflet.

Robin picked her way through the streets, slapping off as much of the dust and dirt she could manage from her coat. Remarkably, and despite it all, the cloak she’d been wearing when her family first found her hardly showed any signs of wear.  _ “Do you not think  _ remarkable _ is strong praise for a garment? What use would it be if it required constant mending?” _

_ “How observant of you,”  _ she replied, ignoring the actual question. Reflet had been having more and more of these moments lately, though of course they were still far outnumbered by his bouts of insanity. If she could even call it such anymore.  _ “Quiet _ , _ I'm looking for something.” _

_ “The church is up ahead, to the left. And coming up on the right, down that next alley...hm. How  _ interesting.”

She sighed. It had been annoying when all Reflet had said could be labelled a madman’s ramblings, but he’d been surprisingly helpful a few times in the past. He seemed to enjoy the acknowledgement of his undeserved kindness.  _ “What is it, Reflet? _ ”

_ “I’m hurt, maggot. What is this terse manner with which you address me?” _

_ “Reflet, I’m tired. Either tell me what it is, or be quiet.” _

_ “Temper, temper,”  _ he mused, sounding enough like her that she almost laughed despite herself.  _ “There’s an essence calling to me, meatsack, if you must know.” _

_ “What kind of essence would possibly be calling out to you?” _

He only grunted, the strange connection between them urging her to venture down the alley on the right. Pressing a hand against Balmung’s hilt, just in case, Robin scanned the alley for a glimpse of anything that might potentially have been calling to the psychopath in the back of her head. Whoever or whatever it was, she must have just missed them.

Drawing her hood over her head, she continued down the alley, Reflet’s musings still ongoing. Without knowing why she should, she followed his instructions, turning this way and that through a veritable labyrinth of alleyways. She saw them as she turned down her sixth (or perhaps seventh) dark, narrow space. A tall young man cloaked all in black and a young woman in distinctive red clothing. Hair like starlight, close, but not quite the same as Robin’s own.

Instinctively, she threw herself back down the way she’d come.  _ “Will they follow? _ ”

_ “No. You were wise. Flesh-bag.”  _ He hummed, the odd, not-quite there thrum in her head strangely soothing. _ “The boy is a practitioner of the dark arts. He will be formidable.” _

_ “And the girl?” _

_ “Even more so, though her magic is quiet, and not what one should fear.”  _ he said, and for the first time she got the feeling that he respected a human. The faint traces of disgust that rose up from him confirmed that.  _ “She will change the world, maggot, make no mistake of that. But she will not be able to do it alone, no.” _

He continued for some moments, his lofty praise of the two strangers striking a new, uncomfortable chord in her chest. Reflet had never endorsed anyone to her, though she knew that beneath his insulting names, he thought her a skillful individual. His praise of the young man and woman felt different, however. Almost reverent, in a way that worried her.

Who could the pair of them be? Why had Reflet felt such a pull toward them? Robin tried to piece it all together as she made her way toward the church Reflet had mentioned, hoping that she would have a clearer picture soon. As it was, far too many pieces were missing, or didn’t fit, and she didn’t like to think that she would have to leave this new mystery unsolved for long.

As with other churches and chapels she’d visited throughout the years, the assorted members of the clergy with whom she spoke were all too happy to help a potential convert to understand the miracles of Saint Seiros. Robin listened as politely as she could, ignoring the instinct to question the things with which she took issue. In truth, had she done so, she could not have imagined that they would be at all as friendly as they had started out.

Time moved rather quickly during her visit, and when she left, the sun was coming down, the late afternoon giving its way to the calming orange-blues of early evening. She passed by the opera house on her way back, springing for a pair of tickets at the front of the balcony, where Byleth would be able to see over the crowds of people on the ground while comfortably ignoring the mass of bodies behind them. At a stall only a street away from the inn, she purchased a black cloak for Byleth, long enough to cover up her sister’s questionable taste in clothing while being formal enough to guarantee she wouldn’t be deemed underdressed for the performance. 

They’d had a long few days, and Robin wanted to make sure that her sister could enjoy herself, at least for one night. One night of merriment before they had to lend their concentration to the matters of their father’s mercenary company. One night that they could spend together, before Robin turned her attention to other things. The state of this world, the rot creeping its way into the heart of the continent. She saw it, outsider though she was, and though she had a niggling feeling that this was not her world to save, Robin would fight anyway. For her sister, for her father, for the countless people she’d seen who, like her, were mistreated for being different.

She had no way to know what would come next, but the world was changing, and something told Robin that whether either of them wanted it or not, she and Byleth would be there to watch history unfold.

**Author's Note:**

> People keep on telling me I have to write for Three Houses instead of Awakening, so I thought, Why Not Both? Also this is for Silent and Tin, who have been listening to me talk about this for literal weeks, and then had to listen to me freak out about a new idea for this fic just yesterday. You're both the best, love ya <3
> 
> Anyway, here's the start of something that's going to end up being too fucking long, I'm sure. Hope you like it. Feel free to send me an ask or message [ on Tumblr ](http://www.lazywritergirl.tumblr.com) or [ Tweet me!](https://twitter.com/LWGKay)


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